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The Nature of the College Short Story . Josephine L. Batchelder, '96 . 123 

Old Friends Emily Johnson, '97 ... 127 

Matrimony as Viewed from a Spinster's 

Standpoint Mary Jennings Orton, '90 . . 134 

One of the Chkistmas Angels . . . M. G. G., 1900 .... 137 

Two Flights of Song Grace L. Cook, '99 ... 140 

The New Minister M. E. C., '88 141 

Dillon Falls T. L. P 142 

A "Whistler" M. E. C. 143 

Gleanings from a Summertide over the 

Seas Mabel B. Eddy .... 144 

Slip-sheets 151 

Editorials 154 

Free Press 160 

Reviews 164 

Books Received 165 

Exchanges 167 

College Bulletin 170 

Society Notes 170 

College Notes 172 

Alumnae Notes 175 

Marriages 176 

Deaths 176 

idol id - IDecember, 1896- -mo. 3 

Entered In the Post Office at Wellesley, Mass., as second-class matter. 

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The Wellesley Magazine. 

Vol. V. WELLESLEY, DECEMBER 12, 1896. No. 3. 








The Welleslet Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors 
chosen from the Senior Class. 

All literary contributions may be sent to Miss G. M. Dennison, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All items of college interest, and communications to be inserted in the department of Free Press, 
will be received by Miss Mary E. Haskell, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All alumnae news should be sent to Miss Helen M. Kelsey, Wellesley, Mass. 

Advertising business is conducted by Miss Edith May, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Subscriptions to the Magazine and other business communications should in all cases be sent to 
Miss Roberta H. Montgomery, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Terms, $1.75 per year; single copies, 25 cents. Payment should be made by money order. 


I have been rummainno; in the dark closet of Elocution Hall, looking 
over old tiles of the Magazine in search of an article with a long name, 
written for one of the earliest numbers. I found " The Joy of Life in 
Wordsworth and Browning," "The Gospel of Repose Taught by Matthew 
Arnold," and "Forecasts of the Future in 'Paracelsus' and 'In Memo- 
riam,'" but what I wanted was missing. It was something about the con- 
tribution of Napoleonic thought to the literature of the world. I fear it was 
in the corner where the dust lay too thick to penetrate. The change which 
a short five years has made in titles and subject matter suggested to me a 
line of thought already well worn, but none the less interesting for that. 

We remember tile general protest against the number of so-called " heavy 
articles "* in our student periodicals, and the demand for something which 


should reflect college life and thought on its lighter side. The result of this 
has been that at the present day, college magazines abound in the short story, 
either with the direct college setting or with its interest centered in some- 
thing aside from collegiate life, yet reflecting more or less successfully the 
student point of view. Besides the change in the nature of the periodicals, 
has come the rapid increase in the books of college short stories, until, to- 
day, many of the Eastern colleges have their little volume of tales or collec- 
tion of verse. " Harvard Stories" was published in 1893, and since then have 
come " Princeton Stories" and " Yale Yarns," " Cap and Gown," " Welles- 
ley Girls," " At Wellesley," and others less widely known. At a time when 
the press is issuing so many periodicals of the nature of the " Blue Stock- 
ing " and the "Black Cat," we turn critically to the college story to see if 
there is anything vital and distinctive about it, and whether it is worth the 
time and pains often put upon it in the midst of the many interests of col- 
lege life. 

The criticism sometimes made upon these stories is, that they have good 
plots and are cleverly told, but that they seldom touch upon the deepest 
forces at work in college life. I would not like to be called pedantic, or to 
seem unappreciative of the books of fun and escapade we keep upon our 
shelves, but is there not justice in the criticism? It is not that we would 
leave the lighter side untold, but that we look for something else as well. 
We turn to the stories of Harvard, Princeton, and Yale, and we And the 
inevitable ball game and the race, the student in a .scrape, the love tale, and 
the practical joke. In the stories of girls' colleges there is much evident 
love of the picturesque setting, seen in the frequent use of Founder's Day, 
Commencement, and Float, and we like it. There is no one of us who does 
not have a genuine little thrill of pleasure when we come upon " Where, oh 
where are the grand old seniors ! " and a vivid description of one of Welles- 
ley's most attractive days. We like to have other people read it, too, and 
dispel the notion, not yet entirely passed away, that college life is all a 
grind. But the question is, whether we are not leaving out something 
equally interesting. The sketches are few which let us into the inner life 
of things, — the traditions, the college spirit which both shapes the student, 
and which the student himself helps to shape. There is an influence which 
we all recognize but perhaps cannot embody in written form, which works 


itself out viiryingly in different types among us, smoothing off rough eoVes, 
bringing out new desires, aims, and ambitions, all of which mark the stages 
of individual development, which is the richest gift of college life. The true 
worth of the spirit of fellowship, the shoulder-to-shoulder sort of thin«-, in 
which the narrow, personal point of view is broadened, and becomes more 
nearly identified with the interests of others, is rarely emphasized in the 
popular college story. It lacks a certain humanness and sympathetic handling 
of every-day things. It treats rather of the startling event, the exceptional 
days, and has its crisis in the incident rather than in the individual life. 
The class book of Wellesley stories illustrates this : They have carefully 
worked out plots, and, as a rule, are based on some amusing or slightly 
unusual event. Nearly every one makes use of some outside material to 
determine the action of the plot. In six out of ten it is a man or a small 
boy. In the one or two sketches which touch upon the close bond of sympathy 
between the students, and the more commonplace happenings, the workman- 
ship is less strong. All this suggests the rather pessimistic question as to 
whether it is possible for the college student, living in the midst of the things 
he is trying to portray, to satisfactorily reflect the life about him without 
the advantage of a perspective. He can feel the influences which are shap- 
ing him and making life a more real and beautiful thing than it has been 
before, but can he at the same time reveal to others that which he feels, 
and which someone has called " the glorious thrill of the student in the pres- 
ence-chamber of truth?" 

There is, however, another and more hopeful side to the problem as to 
the value of the work we do in writing. Besides the college story, strictly 
speaking, the adequacy of which as a reflection of college life has been ques- 
tioned, there is the story with its interest centered in something outside of 
collegiate life, still dealing with character or incident from the student point 
of view. The greater number of our Magazine stories come under this 
broader classification. As to the worth of trying to express that which we 
see at a fair perspective and are more truly able to interpret, though it may 
be with many errors of vision, much may surely be said. There can be no 
doubt that it is good to struggle for strong workmanship and the best ex- 
pression of thought. Moreover, there are certain qualities which it would 
seem possible to attain. We can learn how to tell a story in an interest- 


ing way, and work out a clear, direct style. We can he broad-minded 
enough in what we say to free our stories from a purely sectional interest, 
so that they will he as attractive to a student of the University of California 
as to a student at Wellesley. It would seem possible, too, to put into our 
writing that which an editor of the Yale Literary Magazine calls " the spirit 
of energetic earnestness " which dominates other phases of our life, and 
should find expression in the world of letters as well. Above all, we can 
make the thing we call motif wholesome, natural, and sympathetic. By 
that, I do not mean something vague or visionary. I have in mind, as I 
write, a story, which many of us remember, written for our own Magazine 
not long ago. It was perfectly simple, with no attempt at clever wording 
or psychological analysis. We liked it because it appealed to a common 
experience, and was human to the very core. It was the story of a small 
hoy who longed to go to the circus, hut could not, hecause his father had no 
money for him. He was brave about it, and sat cheerfully on the fence to 
watch the "p'rade" go by. When the man with the elephants saw him a 
beautiful thing happened, for the man promised him a ticket for the show, 
on condition that he would help care for the animals. So the little fellow, 
faithful to his bargain, worked all the hot forenoon, trudging back and 
forth with heavy pails of water. When the time for the performance came, 
and he stood at the door of the great tent with aching arms and shining 
eyes, the elephant man failed him, and the manager drove him sharply 
away when he begged to see "just one little side show." As he walked 
slowly home, struggling to keep hack the tears and swallow the lump in his 
throat, he said, brokenly, "I never even saw one little monkey, and me 
a'workin' so hard all day." It touched us, I suppose, because each one of 
us remembered times when we had seen no little monkey all day. 

There is an old principle of the art of rhetoric which says that the first rule 
of good speaking is that the mind of the speaker should know the truth of 
what he is going to say. In that principle, which has equal significance in 
the case of the written word, lies much encouragement. If we can grasp a 
thought which has in it a bit of the truth, and can hold it steadily until the 
light falls clear upon it, there cannot help being honest value in our work, 
however far it may be from possessing high literary merit. 

Josephine L. Batchelder, '96. 



My grandmother was born in New York State, near the watering places 
of Saratoga and Ballston Spa. After a few years of married life in her old 
home, the loss of her husband and a reverse in the family fortunes caused 
her to desire new scenes and people, rather than places familiar to her from 
childhood and friends whose very names could not but remind her painfully 
of the past. Accordingly she sold the homestead, and with her two young 
daughters left the neighborhood. For one reason and another she did not 
go back to her old home for many years ; and when she did return, I, as her 
youngest granddaughter, was chosen to go with her. The visit was to me 
an expedition into the fabled land of fairy, and I prize the memory of it 
the more, that it was the only time my dear grandmother revisited the coun- 
try, which was like none other ; her death in the year following this summer 
ended rudely our plans for other like journeys. 

The visit to the old town was made the pleasanter by our finding a wel- 
come in the very house where grandmother was born. The present owners 
of the house were cousins of hers, many times removed, and their hospitality 
did all that was needed to fill the measure of her contentment. Cousin 
Samuel, especially, gave his time to her service, and it was to Cousin Samuel 
that grandmother came one morning with a request. 

" My dear cousin," said she, "there is an old friend of whom some one 
was speaking yesterday, whom I should greatly like to see. It is Mr. Stopford, 
— Judge, he is now, they tell me. Would it be agreeable to you to take me 
to his house at some time when we are in Saratoga? His home is now in 
Saratoga, is it not?" 

Cousin Samuel replied that the Judge was an old friend of his father's, 
that he should be delighted to drive us over to the town that day for our 
morning airing ; whereupon my grandmother fluttered away to her chamber, 
to array herself in her best for the visit. 

As we neared the town, my grandmother was stirred by a gentle excite- 
ment. She sat upright, her gray-gloved hands folded precisely in her lap, 
her eyes following a little wistfully the rows of new houses on either side of 
the road. Her cheeks were a girlish pink under the soft, white puffs of her 


hair. The tightly drawn silk of her sleeves glistened without a wrinkle as 
the sun shone on it, and her beautiful shoulders still showed much of their 
youthful comeliness. 

" Mr. Stopford is a very old friend of mine, my dear," she said to me. 
" He is much older than I am. I knew him when I was a young girl. He 
used to conic over from town very often to see my sister Elizabeth. I have 
not seen him for forty-six years. It is not likely that he will remember me 
al all." 

"You remember the old Winstead place?" said Cousin Samuel, from the 
front seat. "They have let it go now ; it was sold last spring. A Colorado 
man bought it, and he keeps it very well, too. Sumner Winstead couldn't 
afford to hold it. A fine old place." 

"I remember it very well," returned grandmother, with an absent little 
smile. " The Alansons were living there when I knew it : they were cousins 
of the old Judge by his mother's side, and they lived there after his wife died 
until Henry married. I knew the Alanson girls very w r ell. I went to a 
dancing party there once, when I was fifteen ; it was my first party, and I 
remember everything about it. I remember the frock I wore, and how I lost 
my coral bi'acelet in the garden. Yes, I know the old place well." 

"The Alansons are all gone, now," said Cousin Samuel. "A great part 
of the old places are given up to strangers. Here is the Canwell house ; and 
the next on the left is the old Tracy place. There is nobody in the old 
Willis house this summer, though the Willises bought it back last year." 

"The town is greatly changed," assented grandmother, but she still 

"The Judge's place is the second on the right hand," said Cousin 
Samuel, turning down into a quiet, elm-shaded street. "It used to be his 
uncle's, I believe, but that was before my time. As far back as I can 
remember, the Judge has been living here." 

"The house looks much as it used," said my grandmother, settling her 
finery with a stately little shrug as the horses stopped. "Henry Stopford 
never used to believe in changing things every year or two to keep them in 
the fashion. The blinds, though, are a lighter color than they used to be 
when I came here last. The evergreen hedge, too, is taken away ; I suppose 
it began to die out, so that they had to cut it. But there is very little change.'* 


Cousin Samuel fastened the horses, and came to the side of the surrey, to 
help her to alight. Grandmother arranged the lace at her throat with a final 
touch and pat of her gloved fingers, then, with the aid of his hand, sprang to 
the ground as lightly as a girl. She stood upon the broad, gray stone flag- 
ging a stately, slender little figure, the gray silk gown shimmering in the 
few chance sunbeams that fell between the elm twigs overhead, a faint pink 
flushing her cheeks, her eyes very blue and bright, and her hair very soft 
under her prim little gray bonnet. I saw Cousin Samuel look his admiration, 
and my grandmother accepted it as her due, and with a gratified indifference. 

" I should not have come to see Mr. Stopford if he were not such an old 
friend, a family friend," said she, with a pretty flutter of dignity, as we passed 
up the long, shaded path toward the house. " But because he is such an old 
friend, I felt that I should like to come. I may not be able to come into this 
part of the country again, and both of us are growing old." 

I knew that grandmother was sixty-eight, but her smile might have been 
that of sixteen. 

"Judge Stopford is much older than I," she continued. "There is as 
much as ten or twelve years' difference between us, I believe. In one way 
it is more suitable that I should come to see him, than that I should expect 
him to drive over to see me. He must be a very old gentleman now. I 
should not feel at liberty to ask him to make the journey. He may be quite 
unable. Besides, very likely he has forgotten even who I am." 

Cousin Samuel's knock was answered by an old man-servant, who, upon 
recognizing him, invited us to go through the hallway into the garden, where 
his master was. Grandmother slipped her hand through Cousin Samuel's 
arm, and they went forward unannounced. I followed. 

" Of course," said my grandmother, sweeping her silken skirts free 
of the doormat with her right hand, " I have no idea that Mr. Stopford 
will remember me. We have not met for many, many years. I am quite 
sure that Judge Stopford will have forgotten me." She dropped her skirts 
as we came out upon the level grass, arranging her dress with quaint 

"I will introduce you," returned Cousin Samuel. " He will remem- 
ber your father and mother, at any rate, because he spoke of them only 
last winter, when I saw him in Albany. He will be glad to know that you 
are their daughter." 


Grandmother did not answer, and we went on down the wide gravel 
path between the flower-beds. At a little distance an alley led out from 
it down through a little forest of tall rosebushes. The roses were in the 
prime of their June flowering, and the great hushes on either side were 
heavy with blooms. Down this alley, and perhaps ten steps or so away 
from us, stood a tall old gentleman. He carried a hook under his arm, hut 
he was leaning heavily upon his stick and bending forward to look down 
into the cup of a half-open red rose. He wore no hat, and his long 
hair was silver white. There was an indescribable air of courtliness about 
his black dress and frilled shirt-front. 

"There he is," said Cousin Samuel. Grandmother withdrew her hand 
from his arm, and Cousin Samuel went forw r ard a step or two. The other 
heard him and turned. I saw that his eyes were large and brilliant, and 
dark almost to blackness under his bushy white brows. His features were 
strong and irregular. His look was rarely winning. Book and stick were 
laid on a convenient garden seat when he saw us. He came toward us ; 
his step was strong and vigorous. He extended his hand. 

"Samuel Perry! My dear sir, this is a most unexpected, but most 
timely pleasure ! I have not seen you for a number of months. I live 
very much out of the world, now. I am most gratified at your remem- 
brance of me." 

Cousin Samuel took his hand. "Thank you; I am most happy to 
be able to come," said he. "Frederick told me that you were in the 
garden, and so I ventured to come out. We drove over to town on pur- 
pose to see you, indeed. I have with me an old friend of yours, whom 
you may very likely have forgotten, but who wished to see you before she 
leaves us. Do you remember " 

Grandmother did not let him finish. With an impatient little start 
she rustled past him and stood before Judge Stopford. 

" I dare say that you do not recognize me, Judge Stopford," she 

He interrupted her. "Indeed, indeed I do." He bowed an old-time, 

courtly obeisance. " You are Nancy Day, Mrs. " He hesitated ; then, 

in apology, " I have forgotten your married name." 

Grandmother flushed with pleasure, and held out her hand. " I did 
not believe that you would know me," said she. 


The Judge bowed low over her hand. "I should have known you 
anywhere," he replied. "You are very little changed. The years have 
treated you only kindly, I perceive." 

Grandmother met the admiration of his handsome eyes with the unruf- 
fled pleasure of one to whom conquest and the homage of adoring worshipers 
are but pretty incidents of every day. Confidence was in every turn of her 
head ; her shoulders under her tight silk gown settled themselves to a quaint 
little stiffness, in the pride of dominion. She dropped at once back into 
the set phrases and formalisms that made up the small talk of society before 
the days of Andrew Jackson. 

" I am most flattered that you remember me," said she. 

" I had no choice but to remember," quoth the Judge. 

" We have not met for very long." 

"No; not for many years. In many ways I am greatly changed; I 
realize it. Time has scarcely ventured to touch you." 

" Years ! " she repeated. 

' ' Had I guessed that you were near, I should assuredly have tried to 
see you," said the Judge. 

" You did not. I was forced to seek you," she returned. 

"Your coming pardons my neglect; and, believe me,' I am sensible of 
your goodness." With this the Judge drew my grandmother's hand through 
his arm, and turned, half facing Cousin Samuel and me. . 

" This is my granddaughter," said she to him, indicating me by a little 
motion of her hand. 

The Judge bowed again. "She is like you, in some ways," he made 
answer. "And now, would it please you to look over my few flowers? Or 
shall we return to the house ? " 

"I should choose the flowers first, said grandmother. The Judge 
bent his head in pleased assent, and they turned down the path that lay 
between the rosebushes. Cousin Samuel and I followed. Now and then 
Judge Stopford turned to say a word to Cousin Samuel, but for the most 
part we were no more than listeners to bits of their talk. 

"You did not live here when I knew you," my grandmother said, 
"and you were not yet come to be a judge. It is very long ago, is it 


" It must be, yet I do not like to think so. I am unwilling to think 
that our past friendship is so far from to-day." 

" You have not married, I am told," she ventured. "You should have 
done so. You ought to have a son to keep your name." 

" Fortune once refused rae that which I had done nothing to deserve; 
and ever since I have felt no wish to tempt her again. In other things 
life has gone well with me. And yon? Your children? Your husband 
died before you left us, as I remember." 

" Yes," she said. The Judge was silent a moment, in respeet of that 
old sorrow. 

"My two daughters are with me yet," she went on, after the little 
pause. " Both are married. I have five grandchildren." She laughed. 
" Who could have foretold it? When I look back I eannot easily believe 
that they are real, and not people that I have read of in a story." 

"You tempt me to be equally incredulous," returned the Judge, his 
fine old face radiant. " You must take time to convinee me of the one 
thing or the other. You will do me the honor to dine with me, will you 
not?" he demanded, turning to Cousin Samuel, but always keeping his eyes 
upon my grandmother. 

Cousin Samuel was about to speak, but she answered for him. " You 
are most kind," said she, "and it grieves and disappoints me that we may 
not take advantage of your kindness. But I beg that you will excuse us ; 
we have promised Cousin Eliza Haring that we will dine with her to-day, 
and we must not disappoint her. I am deeply sorry that we must refuse 
your hospitality." 

Cousin Samuel also would have added his apologies, but the Judge 
ehecked him. 

"My dear sir! my dear sir! the loss and the disappointment are 
mine. I shall hope for another and a more generous visit next summer. 
That is all. Pray make no more of it." He turned to my grandmother 
once more. "At least you will accept one or two of my roses, will you 
not, if I am to gain no greater favor?" 

" I should prize them more than anything else that could be given me," 
she replied. 

The old Judge led the way to a shady arbor, and seated her there. 
He then excused himself. " I must cut the roses for you myself," said he. 


" His roses are the Judge's dearest pride," explained Cousin Samuel to 
me. "He spends hours of every pleasant day in looking at them and working 
over them. One of his roses is the greatest gift that he can give." Grand- 
mother did not hear ; she sat forgetful of us, hands folded, head demurely 
set, a smile quivering about her lips. 

The Judge returned, clasping with both hands a leafy sheaf of the 
flowers. He offered them to her. Grandmother rose ; I thought that she 
would curtesy. 

" I have not ventured to remove the thorns," said he. " I did not 
know if you would be pleased to have them cut." 

" Pray leave them. They are beautiful," she answered. 

The Judge's pleasure was evident. He confided the great blossoms to 
her tenderly, with anxious intentness lest her gloved fingers press carelessly 
against a green barb of the stems. My grandmother half spanned the bundle 
with both her hands. 

"You are too kind, too generous," murmured she, from behind the 
stately, averted heads of the roses. 

"Indeed, no. The kindness is done to me, and not by me. I am 
honored in your acceptance of my poor gift. And, believe me, my oft'ering, 
such as it is, carries with it my warmest esteem and regard." 

"I thank you," returned grandmother. She and he walked toward 
the end of the arbor, she bearing the roses with all care. Cousin Samuel 
and I followed them down the garden, and through the house to the pillared 
portico in front. 

"You have given me a greater pleasure than I have known for many 
years, by this visit," said the Judge, as he handed her down the three wide 

" The gratification is not all with you," she assured him, with a grave 
little inclination. The Judge returned the formal salute with a more pro- 
found bow, his hand upon his heart, and they walked together down the 
broad, shady path to the street. He helped her into the carriage and stood 
beside her, the sun shining upon his silver hair. 

"I must bid you farewell," said she, hugging the flower stems to her 
side with one hand, so as to leave the other free. She reached the hand to 
him. " I hope that you may be as mindful of me when we next meet." 


" Old friends are not lightly to be forgotten," he told her ; " and you, 
madam, never. I look already to our next meeting. May it be soon, and 
as assured as soon. It is my dearest wish." 

"I hope that it may be," she said. "Farewell; and, if we do not 
meet again, good-by." 

"Farewell!" he answered. The carriage rolled away, and grand- 
mother turned to look back at him. 

" I am very glad to have seen Judge Stopford," she said to me at last, 
musingly. "It is so long since we have met, and I supposed he had for- 
gotten me ; it is pleasant to be remembered after these years. These roses 
are very beautiful. I prize them dearly. If only sister Elizabeth were yet 
alive I would dry one of them for her; she would value it, I think, because 
Mr. Stopford was an old friend of ours." 

Emily Johnson, '97. 


The subject of matrimony and the college woman has been discussed 
ad nauseam, yet I feel impelled to add one word more concerning this much 
vexed question. The kernel 6Y the whole matter seems to me to lie in the 
claim advanced that the ideals of college women change during their four 
years' seclusion to such an extent, that when they are ready to take their 
places in the world outside the college walls they are sadly shocked by the 
inferior culture, morality, and spirituality of men. The idea of marriage 
loses the beauty and poetry with which it was invested during the happy 
exile, and seems to present harsh facts instead of pretty theories. The claim 
is certainly advanced by many that the average college woman feels herself 
superior to the men with whom she comes in contact, and that it is for this 
reason that she denies herself the most sacred of human relations, and the 
one experience of life best fitted to perfect her undeveloped nature. I be- 
lieve that this claim is partly true, and I wish to record a protest against it. 

Man and woman both belong to the catarrhine family of apes ; and that 
is about the extent of their similarity. In their physical, mental, moral, 
spiritual natures, they are widely divergent, and were intended to supple- 


ment and complete each other. Neither can attain the full development of 
powers if the other be lacking. As to the old question of the superiority of 
man, the world is ready to lay that aside forever, just as it once put by the 
burning question of how many angels could stand on the point of one needle. 
What possible blessing might the world draw from the final solution of either 

Oxygen and hydrogen are alike in being gaseous elements, but how dif- 
ferent in all essential properties ! Each working alone is a mighty factor in 
the world's history, and who asks which is the greater? It is onlj r from 
their everlasting union that "the wilderness and the solitary place shall be 
glad; and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose." 

This essential difference in the sexes is made more pronounced by their 
different methods of training in early life. A girl is carefully shielded from 
all possible evil influence ; she has one chance in a thousand to meet the 
daily, hourly temptations her brother fights. When, at length, she goes out 
from the home circle to her college days, she is pure-minded, earnest, inno- 
cent. She has seen no evil ; can it be that it exists in all its foulness round 
about her? All the conditions of her new life are carefully planned to foster 
her health, her mental development, her moral growth, and her spiritual in- 
sight. While life moves on very simply and graciously for her, she natur- 
ally feels that all is well throughout the universe. She 

" Feeds in pastures large and fair, 
Of love and truth divine," 

and she cannot recognize that the world is starving in the outer darkness. 
If there is a beautiful sight under the spreading heavens, it is the enthusiasm 
of a girl about to leave her Alma Mater, feeling that because to her much 
has been given, of her shall much be required. She goes out to fight the 
good fight, and the light of unquenchable hope shines in her eyes. Is it 
strange that such a girl, remembering the traditions of her home and the in- 
spiration of her college, should turn with repugnance from the sensuality 
and selfishness of the ordinary man ? 

Stop a moment ! 

The boy, from his babyhood, leads a very different life. In early child- 
hood he has probably been familiar with sights and sounds from which his 


"«ist cr has been religiously guarded. While he is still in knickerbockers he 
Learns fche earliest lessons of evil, and though his sweet mother and sister 
may not dream it, he may already have become poisoned in mind and per- 
verted in morals. These changes once wrought, a lifetime is not long 
enough to efface the traces of this early blight. The masculine nature being 
aggressive, the boy has, " for the fun of it," experimented with various forms 
of evil from which his delicate-minded sister would turn in horror. This 
very vehemence of the man's nature leads him into temptations of which an 
ordinary girl has no comprehension. At college, the good and uplifting in- 
fluences which surround the girl, surround her brother as well, and his strong 
nature thrills to the magic touch of art and science. But the impetuous an- 
imal within, striving against its bounds, must vent its unceasing energy, and 
there are always those at hand who would turn this activity into harmful 
channels. Drinking, gambling, and immorality are not unknown among 
those who should be the glory of our nation, — our college boys. Is it to be 
wondered at that our promising lads sometimes come out from college weak- 
ened in moral fiber and disheartened with life? 

But what of the man who fights his temptations down, and lives and 
grows in the light of truth? Such a man deserves the homage of the noblest 
woman that ever graced God's earth. He has fought the good fight, he has 
kept the faith. Because there are still traits in his nature which we cannot 
admire, who are we that we should judge him? What woman has put away 
small-mindedness, petty jealousy, ill temper, selfishness, and all the multitu- 
dinous failings of the feminine mind ? What one of you has risen above these 
weaknesses into the calm and peaceful atmosphere of eternal things? " Thou 
hypocrite, cast out first the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou 
see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye." " Ye have not yet 
resisted unto blood, striving against sin." 

I do not mean to overlook nor to justify men's failings, for I know they 
are of a nature to try the feminine soul almost beyond endurance. The er- 
rors of men are more gross, more palpable than those of women, but the 
root of both lies in the desire for self-satisfaction, inborn in the human race. 
May not the sins of women, less flagrant, less bestial than those of man, be- 
cause of her constitution and functions, be quite as evil in the sight of eternal 
righteousness and truth? In the eyes of the Lord which was more guilty, 


Eve, who tempted Adam, or Adam, who fell? Surely the deadlier punish- 
ment fell upon the woman. 

A man, faulty as he is, has yet traits which no woman can afford to un- 
derrate, — honesty, straightforward dealing, force, and effectiveness. Every 
man needs a woman's care and love to help him to his fullest, development. 
He does not need a wife who feels her own moral superiority, but one who, 
in all humbleness, accepts his love as the crown of life, and takes up cheer- 
fully the burdens which his imperfect nature imposes on her. She does not 
bear all, for a wife may lay on her husband the burdens of over-exacting af- 
fection, frivolity, ill temper, grievous to bear. For every masculine failing, 
there is a corresDondin^ one in the feminine world. The woman who has 
been guarded from open sin all her days, cannot appreciate the struggles a 
man must make to preserve his manhood ; but she should be large-hearted 
enough to recognize her inability to judge him. If he has any claim to 
purity and uprightness,, he deserves her respect, for this claim is bought with 
a price, — a price which she herself would scarce dare to pay. Without her 
love and trust he is but half himself; with it, he may rise to divine heights 
and breathe the air of purity and truth. 

The old story runs that the first man and woman were sinless because 
ignorant ; but the type of humanity to which we look forward is that of 
manhood and womanhood united, possessing full knowledge, yet blameless ; 
which is "the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." 

Mary Jennings Orton, '90. 


It was late in the afternoon of the day before Christmas when Eleanor 
Burton hurried along the snowy streets toward her home. She had been 
since one o'clock at the Social Settlement, helping decorate the great Christ- 
mas tree in the children's playroom. The Social Settlement was her pet 
scheme for the salvation of Brewster, the town in which she lived. Brewster 
was suffering from a boom, and it seemed likely never to recover. The 
boom had brought many workingmen to the little Ohio town, and it had left 
them stranded there. Stranded, it is true, in pretty white cottages, but 


they now had empty cupboards, and worse still, mortgages hanging over 
them. The boom had left behind it, however, two excellent things, — electric 
lights and the Social Settlement. The lights gleamed out now in the wintry 
dusk at every corner, even out in the cornfields and pastures, for Brewster 
had been planned on a magnificent scale. 

The Social Settlement stood on Factory Hill, in the midst of a colony of 
workingmen's cottages. Eleanor Burton's home was on the other side of the 
town, across the river. As she hurried along she was thinking of her after- 
noon's work, — the glad light in the eyes of the tired, despairing women who 
came to receive the little bundles of toys that were to be stuffed into small 
stockings that night ; the gracious sweetness of the head worker as she dis- 
tributed the packages with a word of hope and good cheer for each weary 
mother; the blind boy who had played softly to them on his violin, as they 
worked about the tree. The girl's step was light as she walked rapidly 
through the fast-gathering twilight. 

As she turned down the street that led to the bridge, she met an old 
man with a tray half filled with holly and mistletoe. 

"How much do you ask for what you have left?" she said, stopping 
him, — wondering whether she had anything left in her pocketbook after her 
many donations to the Settlement Christmas tree. 

" All for thirty cents, ma'am, and only one wreath left. The wreath's a 
fine one, lady, and you can have it for fifteen cents extra." 

Eleanor emptied her purse on the man's tray, and took all that he had. 
The cold wind from the frozen river blew in her face, and she nestled more 
comfortably into her furs as she hastened on. At the entrance of the bridge 
she saw a little boy sobbing and shivering. 

" What is the matter, little one?" she asked, stooping down to him. 

He looked up slowly into the sympathetic face bending over him, and 
stopped his crying. 

"Are you cold and hungry?" Eleanor asked, thinking regretfully of 
her empty pocketbook and the holly in her arms. The child shivered and 
said gravely, — 

" It is so cold an' dark — an' — an' the baby is sick." He began to cry 

"Poor little fellow ! What is your name, and where do you live?" 


" My name is Benny Phillips, and I live down there," he replied, point- 
ing to a row of cottages along the river bank. 

" And your mother?" asked the girl, as she took his hand and started 
toward the group of houses. 

"She's cryin', an' I can't make her stop." 

Eleanor pressed the little hand more closely, and hurried on with a 
strange weight on her young heart. The child looked at her shyly now and 
then. She seemed very beautiful to him, this lovely lady with her gentle 
voice, her soft blue eyes, and her golden hair. He thought she might be 
one of the Christmas angels his mother had told him about the night before, 
when she put him to bed. Perhaps a Christmas angel could make her stop 
crying. He hoped so, for it made him sad to see his mother cry. 

" Here," he said, in a moment ; " I live here." 

Then he pushed open the door, and Eleanor saw one of life's little trag- 
edies in the brief moment that she stood faltering on the threshold. 

An oil lamp, burning on its little bracket at the other side of the room, 
lighted up the sad scene with an almost glaring brightness. Before a table 
the mother sat, with head bowed and her face hid in her hands. At one side 
of the room was a low bed, and Eleanor thought she could distinguish a baby 
form beneath the loosely spread sheet. 

The child ran up to his mother, crying, — 

" Mamma, look ! One of the Christmas angels ! " 

The .woman lifted her head and saw the richly dressed young girl at the 
door, with her arms full of holly and mistletoe. She rose quickly, and 
stood, slim and straight, beside the table. Her face and attitude both be- 
spoke refinement and dignity. Eleanor advanced a little way into the room. 
She was astonished and confused. She had expected to find poverty and 
squalor, ignorance, wretchedness, brutality perhaps, anything but this. The 
room was indeed bare and cold, but the sad faced little woman before her 
was the mistress of the situation. 

" Your little boy," began the girl, — " your little boy was crying — and — 
and I felt so sorry for him — and for you, when he said the baby was sick. 
Can't I do something for the baby? You must be very tired, and I can " 

" You are very kind," said the mother, " but I think you can do noth- 
ing ; the baby died an hour ago." 


" Oh ! " faltered Eleanor ; " and you are alone?" 

"Yes," she replied. " My husband is out West, and I cannot bear to 
call upon my neighbors for help or sympathy. They do not understand me, 

— they are so " She hesitated, lest she seem to speak unkindly of the 

good-natured Irish women who had tried so hard to be " sociable." 

" Yes," said the girl quickly, dropping her green branches on the table, 
and holding out her hand to ttie woman, " but you will let me try to under- 
stand, won't you?" 

" I think you understand already," said the other, with tears in her eyes. 
" It is not bread nor coal that I want, — my husband is at work now, and will 
send for us in the spring, — but it is love and sympathy that I need." 

In a little while the sad story was told, — the story of hard times and ill 
luck. It need not be repeated here ; we hear it every day. 

"We shall have a sad Christmas, Benny and I. I have not told him 
that this is the time that Santa Claus used to come, for I knew he could not 
remember Benny to-night. I have tried to keep my own faith firm by re- 
peating over and over to him the story of the shepherds, and the angels 
around the manger at Bethlehem." 

Eleanor rose, and taking a little spray of holly, laid it gently on the bed 
beside the tiny form. 

"Shall I come again to-morrow? We shall try to make the day a 
bright one for Benny. We know the baby is happier now than we could 
ever make her. Good-by, then, until Christmas day, little Benny, good- 

When she had gone the child asked gravely, — 

" Is she truly one of the Christmas angels, mamma?" 

" I think she is, my little boy." 

M. G. G., 1900. 


We were rather dull, so some one asked Betty Norton to sing for us. 
We had not heard her since her two years of study in Paris, and I think we 
were all privately glad that she did not attempt anything elaborate. After 
our chatter her w r ell-trained voice was an agreeable change, as it rose and fell 


melodiously over a simple tune. The words of the song did not impress 
me, and the music seemed too light for her powerful voice. "What 
is it?" we asked, when the song was done. " 'Airly Beacon,' by Ethelbert 
Nevin," she said. I was surprised, for as a rule I like Nevin. 

The next evening Constance came in to see me. I motioned her to the 
piano. " Here is something new," she said, smiling, and struck a few strong- 
notes till her voice came in tenderly on a plaintive air. Soon it was more 
than plaintive. Every word, every tone vibrated with repressed passion. 
At the end a life history had been revealed to me. How could that inex- 
perienced voice grow rich and heavy with such profound insight and feeling? 
The lonely, sobbing melody held me. I looked questioningly into Con- 
stance's glowing face. "It is Nevin's ' Airly Beacon,' " she said. 

Grace L. Cook, '99. 


It was all due to the new coat of paint on the parsonage. No one who 
saw the old minister walk into the yard, and look at the brilliant yellow 
walls as though he regretted the faded brown, could doubt that the change 
would come. 

He was not responsible for the paint, of course. Some officer of the 
church had ordered it, not knowing what a turn it would give fate's wheel. 
Nor was he responsible that he could not at once alter himself to correspond. 

The church people began to feel uneasy. The minister did not match; 
he was faded. He was still endued with sweetness and lio;ht : but his light 
was too dim, his sweetness was too self-depreciating. His hand visibly 
trembled with a sense of his unworthiness as he handed the cup of salvation 
to his flock. He was not only not brilliant, he was not self-confident. 

The new minister is thoroughly at home in the freshly furbished parson- 
age. His sermons sparkle with witty sentences worthy of newspaper repe- 
tition. He walks the strait and narrow path with assurance, frowning confi- 
dently upon those who stray from it, and wraps his orthodox robe about 
him with an air which makes all other righteousness appear as rags. 

M. E. C, '88. 



Dillon was a queer fellow. None of us could understand how he hap- 
pened to turn up in a theological seminary, for he seemed the last person in 
the world to make a minister. He was sharp and keen as a whip in business 
matters, and we always told him that his place was on the stock exchange 
rather than in the pulpit. To us Westerners he seemed mean, sometimes, but 
I suppose it was only that spirit of New England thrift which was born in 
him. It came out in all sorts of ways, and was at the bottom of numberless 
wild schemes for making money. They generally turned out to be success- 
ful, too. 

At one time, I remember, there was a great fire in Lynn, and a shoe 
factory was burned out. Dillon went down there to take a look at the ruins, 
and, as usual, happened upon one of his bargains. He bought in several cases 
of shoes for amere song, and set up shop with them in his room. The fellows 
all patronized him for the very novelty of the thing, and he cleared quite a 
sum on the affair. 

Another one of Dillon's particularly strong traits, and one that went 
strangely with this shrewd business instinct, was his susceptibility to femi- 
nine charms. He liked the girls, and what is more, they liked him. Though 
he was neither clever nor handsome, he had a happy-go-lucky way that made 
him a favorite everywhere. He was somewhat erratic in his methods with 
them. A new face attracted him, and, for a time, he devoted himself to the 
fair owner with positive recklessness. Then he dropped her as suddenly as 
he had taken her up. 

At last, however, it came Dillon's turn to be really hard hit, as the boys 
say. It seemed a sort of retribution for him to fall in love with Kittie 
Wells. In the first place, she was rich, and Dillon was poor. It was next 
to impossible that her father would consent to let Kittie many a man who 
had his fortune still to make, and very little chance of making it for a long 
time to come. Then, too, Kittie was a coquette from the word go. But 
Dillon got over that difficulty in time, and he and Miss Kittie arranged their 
own part to their entire satisfaction. Then Dillon had to go to see the 
father. He decided, after much thought, to visit him in his office down town, 
thinking that the task, under any circumstances a hard one, would be easier 
there than at the rich man's home. 


Dillon spent a long time in getting himself up that day. He put on his 
best clothes, and tied his necktie a dozen times. Then, with a trembling 
heart, he started. He walked, to keep up his courage, — or perhaps to save 
his car fare. That was his first mistake. His next was in soinof through 
the market. Then his fate was settled. For some reason or other an extra 
supply of eggs had been brought in that morning, and they were being sold 
off far below cost. That was too much for Dillon. All his business instincts 
were aroused. So great an opportunity could not be let slip. He hesitated, 
— and was lost. When he went on to Mr. Wells's office, he took with him 
as many eggs as he could carry. 

There was a beautifully clean, smooth, marble nagged corridor from 
which the office opened. Whether Dillon slipped, or whether, at the last 
moment, courage failed him, and he trembled, I do not know. At any rate 
the eggs fell with a crash. Over the marble floor they flew, bespattering 
Dillon from head to foot. In the midst of his dismay a door opened, and 
Mr. Wells appeared. It was enough. Dillon turned and fled, — and, well, 
— he isn't married yet. 

T. L. P. 


Coming out on the elevated road the other evening, I woke from a 
state of semiconsciousness, wondering why I had a vivid impression of being 
in an art gallery. 

There was one picture, framed in by the window opposite. A blue 
mist rising from the prairie had met the cloud of smoke which was rolling 
out from the city, and diffused with a purple haze. One felt, rather than 
saw, the far-away horizon line where the stretch of brown prairie met the 
returning stretch of gray sky. Outlines were blurred, and colors lost in 
imperceptible gradations of tone. The street lamps broke through the murk- 
iness at regular intervals, with flickering blotches that gave no radiation. 
Here and there a lighted window made a yellowish oblong slit below the 
gloom of a roof. 

It was a perfect Whistler " Nocturne" — perfect, unless, as my friend 
suggested, Whistler himself should attempt to improve upon it. 

M. E. C. 



Centuries ago men in Spain and England, in all parts of Europe, in 
fact, were looking eagerly to a newly found land in the West. Full of 
romance and of untold treasures was the strange New World for them. 
They came across the sea by hundreds in their great, slow-sailing ships. 
They came because they were greedy for gold, and fast accumulated wealth. 
Some dreamers came to seek the fountain of unfailing youth. 

To-day there is another flitting across seas, and now it is toward the 
East. The ships sail faster, and the people throng by thousands to the 
Atlantic shores. We children of the great West seek our dreamland back 
in the home of our fathers. In Spain we build our castles, in England and 
throughout all Europe we weave our romances. Though one of our own 
poets has called us " avaricious," we do not seek, as our fathers did, for 
gold over the seas. No ; we are more like the dreamers who sought for 
the fountain of eternal youth. It is the eternal wealth of mind, soul, heart 
that we pursue in our El Dorado. 

In a sumniertide we pass through England, with its storied towns, 
ancient castles, noble cathedrals, and poet homes, into wild and rugged 
Wales, or Scotland, true realm of romance, land of loch and mountain. 
We cross the channel to Holland, where cleanliness is indeed next to godli- 
ness, and is only less characteristic than the quaintness of the people. As we 
sail up the Rhine, we can easily imagine ourselves back in the world of 
Faerie. The castles airily perched on rocky cliffs high above vineyards and 
villages, seem haunted with the mediaeval spirit of the heroes who built 
them and of the knights who once dwelt in them. In Switzerland we 
breathe the air of patriotism, and in the names of Winkelried and Tell we 
hear an echo of that mountain voice so powerful 

. . . " to repeal 
Large codes of fraud and woe ; not understood 
By all, but which the wise, and great, and good 
Interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel." 

France is fair, yet hardly any other land but Italy has seen such 
suffering in the cause of religion and of country. The soil, which has been 
saturated with the blood of many massacres, is still rich and fruitful : that 


people of the light heart regains its lively cheerfulness with scarce a trace 
of the terror and grief just past. True, in Paris there are landmarks which 
make one who knows their story shudder. But unless one's thought runs 
back over the history of the years from 1789-1793, it is impossible to 
realize the significance of those half-obliterated letters which mark every 
public building in Paris, from the Hotel des Invalides to the Hotel de Dieu, 
and Notre Dame itself. The words are these : " Liberie, Fratemite, Egalite." 

In passing through Great Britain, Germany, Switzerland, and France 
in a single summer, we gain only a general view of the riches which our 
dreamland holds. As for the particular treasures we choose to remain for- 
ever a part of our mind's wealth, — that depends on the eye and heart 
which we bring to it all. If we have something of the antiquarian spirit 
which sympathizes with one like Washington Irving, we shall find special 
delight in rambling through the old, quaint byways of London. Wandering- 
down Oxford Street and High Holborn to Newgate, we may well halt at the 
Old Bailey, and recall some of its grim and somber associations. 

Just across the way stands a more cheerful object. This is a long 
Gothic building of gray stone, with great stained-glass windows, which give it 
the effect of a church. If we choose to enter this building we may turn down 
a narrow little lane just under Christ's Church, and we shall find ourselves in 
the cloisters surrounding a court of Christ's Hospital. For this is, indeed, the 
Blue Coat School, and if we are here in schooltime we shall frequently meet 
some of the bare-headed, yellow-stocking lads. It is said they never grow 
bald, since they never wear hats. Visions of the youthful Coleridge and 
Lamb rise in the mind as one visits the dormitories, with their rows of little 
beds, and one hopes that they found as motherly a matron as the good woman 
who greets you there, and who feels so much interest in the Blue Coat Boys 
of to-day. The building, which looks without like a church, is in reality a 
dining hall, with two very long tables, supplied with benches on which 
numberless boys have carved their names. At one end of the hall is a dais, 
where the gTeat people sit at school festivals. 

One of the courts of Christ's Hospital opens directly into Little Britain. 
It makes one half start for the first time to catch sight of those words on an 
actual signboard. It would seem quite natural, thereupon, for old Mr. Skryme, 
or his rival oracle, the Cheesemonger, to appear. Walking on to the end of 


Little Britain we reach Smithfield, the scene of gay tournaments of long ago, 
as well as of many martyrdoms. Alas ! how has the place degenerated ! 
The principal object of interest in the present square is a huge meat market, 
filled with busy, hurrying men of the most plebeian sort. But the very 
names of these places conjure up mind pictures which people each spot with 
the great presences who used to haunt it. So as we walk down Paternoster 
Row to Amen Corner we seem to see Dr. Johnson's portly figure halting be- 
fore one of the musty bookstalls, or Shelley's slight form hurrying along the 
crowded thoroughfare. We may wander on through Paul's Churchyard, 
down Ludgate Hill and Fleet Street to Temple Bar, one of the most delightful 
and picturesque places in London. If you look here for a grand entrance, 
you must look in vain. It is only after some search that one discovers the 
little doorway leading into a narrow lane. To the right, the lane broadens 
into a court with a clump of trees and a bright fountain in the center. Around 
are several handsome stone buildings, two of which have the appearance of 
Gothic churches. I wandered about here for some time one day endeavoring 
to find the Temple Church. In answer to a question about the buildings in 
this court, a gardener of the place said, " Well, you can't tell ; they look like 
churches, but they might be turned into offices." And so I found they were. 
Wandering along through a narrow passage under some houses, I found a 
second court, with something like cloisters at one side. Here was a building 
which seemed surely a sacred edifice, but as I could find no entrance I con- 
tinued to a third court, in which at last I found the Temple Church. In this 
place the Knights Templars once worshiped, and here the laAV students worship 
now. It is rather a curious edifice, with a western dome and a Gothic nave. 

The intricate winding passages and courts of the Temple remind one of 
Oxford, with its quadrangles and quaint byways. One would have to live 
long in Oxford to become acquainted with all the twenty-three colleges ; in a 
brief visit even a few are difficult to distinguish. Christ's College, with its 
big "Tom Quad," is sure to make an impression, if not for the beauty of its 
fan-vaulted entrance or its Norman Church, then for Wolsey's great kitchen 
below r , where the immense ovens of long ago are still used for providing some 
of the "young gentlemen" of nineteenth-century England with good dinners. 

In All Souls' College Chapel is the beautiful sculptured reredos, covered 
up in the time of Cromwell, to prevent its destruction, and then forgotten for 


centuries. In this Gothic chapel there are no other walls than the cream- 
colored buttresses between the windows, and as the colored light slants across 
the stone they seem translucent, clear as alabaster, through which a rainbow of 
light is shining. 

There is hardly a spot, even in Oxford, lovelier than Addison's Walk. 
It lies along the River Cherwcll, scarcely more than a quiet brook, above 
which rise the ivy-covered walls and towers of Magdalen College. The 
walk itself is overhung with trees, which make a lovely shady vista down 
its length. Luxuriant vines and ivy cover the ground on both sides. 
What a spot for a poet to murmur his verses in and dream his dreams ! 

In the town itself they show you the spot where Latimer and Ridley 
were burned, and the pillar in St. Mary's Church where they stood to hear 
their condemnation. In this same church Amy Robsart is buried. Lovers 
of " Kenilworth " will take the drive to Cumnor Place, the scene of her 
tragic death. Hardly one stone remains upon another of the Hall, but the 
little church close by is picturesque and interesting, and the village itself 
is worth visiting for its pretty thatched cottages, all ivy-clad, which are so 
characteristically English. The Castle of Kenilworth itself is not very far 
away ; it is just beyond Warwick, and one may still trace in the ruins 
the places where so many romantic events occurred. 

Those who have been taught by Wordsworth to love 

. . . " woods and rills, 
The silence that is in the starry sky, 
The sleep that is among the lonely hills," 

will find the Lake District full of the most delightful associations. As one 
visits Windermere, Hawkshead, Coniston, Ullswater and Kirkstone Pass, 
one is continually haunted by some poem or event in the poet's life. Gras- 
mere is, for the Wordsworthian, the center of this enchanted land. Even 
our commonplace lives are breathed on by the spirit of poetry as we visit 
Dove Cottage, wish at the Wishing Gate, and attend service at the little 
church where, close beside the murmuring Rotha, Wordsworth lies buried. 

" Keep fresh the grass upon his grave, 
O Eotha, with thy living wave ! 
Sing him thy best! for few or none 
Hears thy voice right, now he is gone." 


For a little while we are shut in from the bustle of the outside world by 
the mountains whose very names we have loved so long, — Nab Scar, Lough- 
rigg Fell, Silver Howe, and Helm Crag. 

To one who loves beautiful architecture, hardly anything in England is 
more impressive than her majestic cathedrals. As one sits in the choir or 
wanders along the nave, the eye is delighted with the rich coloring of old 
glass, the carvings of the oak stalls, and the sculptures which adorn rood 
screen and rercdos. The whole vastness of the pile expands the soul, and 
the light shafts of the Gothic nave lead the eye upward to the lofty vault. 
The ear is filled with the glorious melody of choir boys singing in full 
chorus, or high, clear solo, at matins and at vespers. Their voices ring among 
the arches, and re-echo from vaulted nave and aisle. The heart is thrilled 
and subdued into reverence by the rich and solemn intoning of the service. 

The exterior of these cathedrals answers well to the epithet of the poet 
who calls architecture " frozen music." The western towers give an idea of 
enduring strength and majesty. The lantern tower, often finely sculptured, 
as at Lincoln, reaches its crowning beauty in the spire of Salisbury, which 
rises in aerial lightness, gray but sublime. Magnificent as are many of the 
cathedrals of France and Germany, they do not appeal to the heart as do 
these English cathedrals. Still, it is possible that the American heart is 
biased somewhat by a Puritan ancestry, even in the matter of architecture. 
Cologne Cathedral is indeed vaster than any in England ; its proportions are 
grand, and its western towers are completed with spires of open stone 
tracery, which appears as fine as lacework. It is impressive to hear the 
immense audience gathered there on a Sunday join in singing a German 
choral. The long, slow rhythm of the chant rises, falls, and swells again 
with a power which makes the heart beat faster. The multitude heaves and 
surges like the sea as it presses toward the altar, and at the tinkling of the 
silver bells all kneel on the stone pavement in silent prayer. 

The French cathedrals, high and narrow, have a peculiar beauty in the 
flying buttresses of the " chevet," or round east end, which is not used in 
England at all, with the exception of Canterbury. 

The facades of Notre Dame and Amiens Cathedrals are especially fine. 
Notre Dame suffered somewhat in the Revolution and in the Communes, but 
Amiens is fortunate in having still, almost intact, its beautiful sculptures 


and statues. Here, at least, was no Cromwell to break down the beautiful 
"idols" of medievalism. Well might Mr. Ruskin speak of the Bible of 
Amiens, for there is hardly a story of Old or New Testament history which 
the people could not read in their cathedral, either in windows, chapel paint- 
ings, stone relief, or in the black oak of the choir stalls. The arms and side 
of every choir seat are most richly carved with animated figures, which tell 
their story simply but vividly. So delicate is some of the carving that a 
strip of the wood may be made to resound like the string of a violin. 

In speaking of beautiful churches, Sainte Chapelle in Paris must surely 
be mentioned as one of the loveliest architectural gems in the world. The 
windows are only divided by narrow buttresses, and these, with the roof 
and every part of the chapel which is not of rich glass, are painted blue and 
decorated with gold. The semicircular east end, with its glittering, jewel- 
like effect, is only surpassed by the beauty of the rose window at the west, 
whose tracery alone, aside from its color, fills the eye with delight. 

But the works of man's hand, however glorious, are still surpassed by 
those of God, eternal, yet ever changing. Nowhere is the soul more awed 
by Nature's loveliness than in Switzerland. In Zurich, Lucerne, and Geneva 
one is charmed with the beauty of lakes whose blueness is a marvel to 
Northern eyes. There is hardly a prettier picture in Switzerland than that 
of the gray, red-roofed Castle of Chillon, as it stands out in the green-blue 
water of Lake Geneva, with the Dent du Midi for a background. 

Many interesting associations rise about the castle in its connection with 
poets whose names we read in the dungeon, — Victor Hugo, Shelley, Alex- 
ander Dumas, and Byron. 

" Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place, 

And thy sad floor an altar; for 'twas trod 
Until his very steps have left a trace 

Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, 
By Bonnivard! May none those marks efface! 

For they appeal from tyranny to God." 

Still, it is the mountain summits rather than the valleys toward which 
our eyes look most longingly. If our introduction to snow-capped peaks 
comes in a sunrise view from the top of Rigi or Pilatus we are fortunate ; for 
from one of these summits the whole Bernese Oberland is spread out before 


us. Our first acquaintance with the Wetterhorn, Monch, and Eiger is won 
in the flushed splendor of early morning, when the white peaks are deeply 
tinged with the color of the Alpine rose, which hlooms just below their 

There is perhaps no other spot in Switzerland where one may feel him- 
self so truly in the heart of the Alps as in Zermatt. This narrow valley, 
entirely closed in by snowy peaks, is so high that the Swiss peasants them- 
selves can only live there in summer. I shall never forget a sunrise which I 
saw from this valley. It was Sunday morning, and I walked alone through 
the quiet streets of the picturesque little village. Early as it was the tiny 
church was thronged with worshipers, mostly men. One or two of the 
peasants who passed me gave a cordial morning greeting in German. I 
reached the outskirts of the village, and crossed the brook which flows 
through it. There I suddenly stopped, my eyes fastened on the most won- 
derful sight I ever beheld. Before, and almost above me, towered the sharp, 
snow-covered peak of the Matterhorn, changed by the rising sun to pure 
gold, and shining with dazzling splendor against the faintly flushed sky. 
The snow-capped summits around still lay in shadow ; this alone appeared 
as the one object in the morning landscape. With a wild longing to have 
nothing between me and that peak, I started up the hillside before me. On 
I went, through grass wet with dew, across rushing, leaping streams, slip- 
ping on stepping-stones, sliding into gullies, stumbling up steep banks, half 
falling over walls, and struggling through bushes, till I stopped, panting for 
breath, heated through in spite of the frosty air. I had climbed an hour, jet 
seemed no nearer my goal. New hills seemed to rise between me and it. 
It was full another hour before I made a final halt on the edge of a precipice, 
which sunk sheer down to the valley from which I had climbed. Away 
below I could see the village still in shadow. Over it the mists huns; 
heavily. But the first rays of the sun had already glanced across the eastern 
mountains, and lay with grateful warmth at my feet, chilled with the dew. 
There was something awful in the stillness, which was only emphasized by 
the soft rush of waters, the song of a bird, and the distant roar of the River 
Vispe, far, far below. I could from my height just trace its course, and 
follow it up to the glacier from which it flowed. But, above all, I stood at 
last "face to face" with the Matterhorn; for there, just across the chasm, 


rose that mighty form in majestic pride and glowing beauty, solemn, glori- 
ous, speaking silently, yet unspeakable, indescribable for mortal tongue or 
pen, a sublime miracle of nature — say of God. 

If this one vision had been all I saw in one summer, I could not have 
called the three months wasted. But Nature is lavish of her gifts. She is 
prodigal of royal purple at eventide, and of i*ed gold at dawn. Such treas- 
ures she spreads over every land. Only her children must have eyes to see 
and hearts to feel, or they may never grasp these riches, which belong to the 
West as to the East, which are indeed but symbols of the universal Love. 

. . . "It subsists 
In all things, in all natures; in the stars 
Of azure heaven, the unenduring clouds, 
In flower and tree, in every pebbly stone 
That paves the brooks, the stationary rocks, 
The moving waters, and th' invisible air. 

Spirit that knows no insulated spot, 

No charm, no solitude; from link to link 

It circulates, the soul of all the worlds." 

Mabel R. Eddy. 


It gave me such a strange feeling to write that letter, for I knew she 
wouldn't take my part in it in the right way. But it was the only thing 
to do. I couldn't let her misunderstand Katharine, even if she had to break 
off with me, her former roommate. So there it was. I sealed the letter 
and addressed it, mechanically, then walking down to the post office, dropped 
it in. It stuck a little at first, as if it didn't want to go. I gave it another 
push, and it disappeared. I couldn't get it back, then. I waited a moment 
in a kind of fascination for the place, then turned away, with one of the sen- 
tences in the letter, — the one it had been hardest to write, — ringing in my 
ears. F., '96. 

Two men stood together and looked out over the landscape spread be- 
fore them. The one saw " lowly cottages, beautiful among the pleasant 
fields," heard the melodious song of birds, and the ceaseless murmur of the 
river "winding among grassy holms," felt the "fluttering breezes," and 
found in all things " a never failing principle of joy." The other was quite 


as sensitive to the beauty of* the scene, but lie found in it something more ; 
for he saw "on the plain, all smoking, the horses at the plough," and in a 
stony corner of the held "a man straightening his loins and wiping his face 
with the back of his hand." T. 


" It changed the whole tenor of her life." So I heard her say, and it 
truly had. No matter what she did, after reading James on "Habit," she 
always stopped to think what little groove it might tend to form. If she 
were tempted, through weariness, to nap in work-time, she wouldn't. It 
might become a habit. If she felt a desire to yawn in a library alcove, she 
would shut her lips close together. She was afraid the habit might grow 
upon her. If she wanted to look off her book at the clock, she wouldn't. 
She was sure that it would become a habit ; that she would so lose her power 
of concentration. She thought about the matter so constantly that she al- 
most became a nuisance to both herself and her friends. She had at last 
formed a habit, and that a most disagreeable one : she had the habit of being 
forever self-conscious, and the faculty of being continually distressed about 
small affairs. And thus do books affect us. M. 


" So you are taking a course in Daily Themes?" said Nell to the big 
Harvard boy beside her. " Yes," he answered, looking appropriately sol- 
emn; "we have it sophomore year, you know. It's an awful bore," he 
added, candidly. " What do you ever find to write about?" Nell inquired. 
" O, you can write about almost anything," he said, easily. "Don't you 
know, there are a lot of things worth writing up. It's the way you do it 
that counts. I can't seem to suit the instructor myself " He smiled pen- 
sively, and regarded his cuff-links with great attention as he went on : " The 
other day Smith, — that's the man that has us in English, you know, — Smith 
said to us in class, ' Now, fellows, if you're going to write about college life, 
why don't you write about it as it is?' He said, ' College men never talk 
the way you make them talk in your themes, you know they don't. Why 
don't you write something next week and try to put in some really natural 
college conversation?' So I did," pursued the boy, with frank brown eyes 


raised to Nell's, and when the theme came back there were just two words 
on it. The criticism was, — well, in fact, it just said, ' Unwarrantably pro- 
fane.'" K. 

It was a moonlight night. What is it that gets into people's blood at 
such times ; that makes romantic the most prosaic ; that turns a young fel- 
low's head completely, so that he can't see any of the resolutions and princi- 
ples that he generally keeps befoi'e him? 

That and a girl. She was standing with her back against one of the 
pillars of the piazza, straight and slender, with her head tipped back just a 
trifle against the white post. The moonlight shone down on her hair and 
brought out the curves of cheek and chin. She had clasped her hands be- 
hind her, — with a purpose ? 

" Why don't you go?" she said, drooping her lids to look down, with- 
out moving, at me on the step below. 

" Don't look at me that way," I warned her. 

"Why?" And she kept right on. Now the question is, was it my 
fault? . I. 


Professor of Chemistry (to Professor of Bible, at luncheon, Saturday, 
October 14, apropos to the dinner planned for visiting lecturers) : "So you 
are going to have a biblical dinner to-night. I suppose you'll have 'tui'tles 
and wild honey'?" 

General laugh. 

Professor of Chemistry : " Oh ! I meant the voice of the turtle." 

The Professor of Bible says she has a cousin studying at "the Mark 
Hopkins University, in Baltimore." The Professor of Chemistry thinks that 
the Professor of Bible, in deference to her calling, ought to make herself 
clearer on the difference between Mark and John. 

The Professor of Chemistry's Conundrum : Why is it unjust to expect 
Boston newsboys to keep quiet? Because they are Hub-bubs. 

(In a letter from Portsmouth, Maine :) " Some one told Lucy that a 
large majority of the Wellesley girls smoked cigarettes. But I don't be- 
lieve it." 




The College Calendar for 1896-97 contains some changes from that of 
last year. A good many electives have been added in the various depart- 
ments. All mention of the College clubs and societies is omitted, — a bit of 
good taste as welcome as the dropping of the woodcuts of buildings a few 
years ago. Several facts of general interest are here for the first time officially 
stated. We learn now that the regular length of the academic year, ex- 
clusive of vacations, is thirty-five weeks ; and that the principle underlying 
the variableness of the time of opening in September is that college shall 
begin on the first Wednesday after the fourteenth. A list of the officers of 
the Alumnae Association, with adddresses, and the names and addresses of 
the secretaries of the different Wellesley clubs throughout the country, are 
found on the last page. These additions make the Calendar more nearly a 
complete ABC of facts about Wellesley. 


About Wellesley scholarships, however, some questions from a member 
of '96 show that the Calendar is not yet a complete A B C of facts. " Are 
the scholarships awarded on competitive examinations?" she asks. And: 
"The Calendar says, 'All applications for assistance must be made by letter, 
addressed to the Secretary of the Students' Aid Society.' But when one 
wants simply to know, and not, perhaps, to ask help — what then ? To whom 
must one apply for information?" The first question the Calendar might 
do well to answer, by stating the fact that the scholarships are not on a com- 
petitive basis; especially since in many colleges, as in Harvard and Rad- 
clifle, for instance, scholarships are competitive. The last query ought cer- 
tainly to be satisfied. Evidently there is at least one college graduate, and, 
presumably, therefore, many other people, to whom the statement that " all 
applications for assistance must be made by letter, addressed to the Secre- 
tary of the Students' Aid Society," does not convey the additional idea that 
for information, also, the Secretary must be addressed. If the Calendar 


would tell them this, it would put them in the way of all facts they might be 
concerned to know. 


The spirit of sourness and ill feeling apt to mark student criticism of 
the College makes such criticism futile. Snarling makes its own justifiable- 
ness mistrusted : bad temper never seems reasonable ; fuming is not the 
expression of a mature, thoroughly thought-out objection to present con- 
ditions, but an irresponsible-sounding protest against grievances whose sting 
is felt rather than their unreasonableness understood. Our sneers of con- 
tempt and dislike for certain regulations will never appeal to authority as 
reason for change. People have always sneered at what they did not under- 
stand, — and children often hate what is best for them. Our fretfulness 
only argues greenness and lack of comprehension, and furnishes authority 
excuse for assuming the whole responsibility of leading us in the paths of 


There is a kind of criticism, however, which, when, it is brought to their 
notice, no authorities can wisely disregard. It is the criticism of students 
who try to examine into their own dislike of certain conditions to find the 
reason for it, and who try to see matters from the official as well as from the 
student point of view. The first effort is to understand just how any con- 
dition is bad for or hard on the students ; the second, to see whether and 
why the changes desired are at present expedient or inexpedient, possible or 
impossible. For this we try to look at Wellesley in its relation to like in- 
stitutions, and in the light of its own development, — realizing that its place 
in the world of colleges, and its own past history, are factors no more to 
be overlooked than the attitude of its students, in determining a college 
policy. This is sympathetic criticism. It is effective, because it is intelli- 
gent, and comparatively impersonal. If we should suppress moie our em- 
bittered fault-finding, and cultivate that knowledge of present and past 
conditions in Wellesley and other colleges, which would win for our opin- 
ions the respect of authority, we should be far better fitted to obtain, and 
judiciously exercise some share of self-government. 



In the matter of self-government, comparison of Wellesley with other 
colleges is in one sense discouraging. The policy of Radcliffe is undeter- 
mined, because there are no dormitories for the Radcliffe students. But 
Smith, Vassar, and Bryn Mawr, all have their student organizations, to whom 
are committed such personal matters as form the hulk of our " rules and regu- 
lations." In Smith, this governing body is made up of deputies elected by 
the faculty from their own number, and student representatives elected by 
each class. Their decisions are subject to the veto of the president. The 
student "councillors" outnumber the faculty members in the conference, 
so that the students' is always the ruling voice. This ruling voice is found 
to be actually sterner than the faculty's. The president's veto has had most 
often to be exercised against some stringency the students would inflict upon 
their fellows. In Vassar "the enforcing of the regulations agreed upon in 
regard to attendance at chapel, daily exercise, hour of retiring", and other 
matters affecting the comfort of college life, is intrusted to a committee ap- 
pointed by the students' Association. This plan has been in operation sev- 
eral years, and is amply justified by its results." The impression made 
upon us by this catalogue announcement has been modified, however, by the 
information from the college secretaiy that " such matters as chaperonage, 
absence from college, entertainments, drives, calls, etc., are in the charge 
of the Lady Principal." Yet even of this association, much less complete 
than that at Bryn Mawr, a member of '97 writes in the Vassar Miscellany 
for November, " It has served as a bond of union among the students, and, 
perhaps more than any other factor, has cultivated and preserved a spirit 
of loyalty and devotion to the college." 

At Bryn Mawr, where the earliest form of social control was student 
self-government, the system is completest. We quote at length from a 
letter from the president of the Association : " The general regulation of the 
college may be placed under three heads. The Self-government . . . has 
in charge the general conduct of the students. The Faculty controls all 
matters connected with lectures, examinations, etc. The Mistresses of the 
Residence Halls make certain rules for their convenience ; . . . . for in- 
stance rules concerning meal hours, washerwomen, etc., etc. As you will 


see by what I have said, the Association is not under the control of the Col- 
lege authorities. In case, of course, of important changes, the officers of 
the Association would as a matter of courtesy consult with the President of 
the College. 

" The Association makes no provision about absences of students dur- 
ing term time, nor about attendance on theater and 'opera. The first matter 
would of course be under the control of the faculty, but no restriction has 
ever been made on the subject. We have no ' cutting regulations ' at Bryn 
Mawr, and no requirements for leave of absence. As to going to entertain- 
ments in the evening, if there were any regulation it would be made by the 
Self-government ; but this has always been regarded as an entirely personal 
matter. And it has always been the ideal of the Association to limit per- 
sonal feeling as little as possible, though with^the necessary undei'standing, 
of course, that in any case of conflict the interests of the individual sink in 
those of the community. The whole matter of chaperonage is in the hands 
of the Association, and we are guided entirely in the matter by a con- 
formance to the conventions of Philadelphia. 

"I do not think . . . from our experience at Bryn Mawr, that the 
amount of labor involved is enough to form any obstacle to the establish- 
ment of an institution which we believe to be so great a blessing." 

The sense in which the consideration of this feature of other women's 
colleges is discouraging is, however, only superficial. What would really 
make us cast down, would be to see that no woman's college had student 
self-government. To us who believe women are best helped by obedience 
to laws they voluntarily impose upon themselves, rather than to those im- 
posed on them by others, the fact that we are alone in not yet having 
adopted self-government, is a sign that is gratifying. 


As a matter of fact, if we leave out of account the restrictions on theater- 
going and Sunday travel, our laws are among the least oppressive college 
codes in the country, — and the college codes of the United States are the 
freest in the world. Few faculties look at cuts so generously as ours. In 
at least one man's college of rank chapel cuts are counted against scholar- 


ship. No light-bell regulation could be more reasonably or less disagree- 
ably enforced than that at Wellesley. We are allowed more freedom in 
the library, except on Sunday, than is the case in many colleges. Though 
we may not draw books with the prodigality of Harvard students, we have 
an exceptionally long day of library hours. The Harvard and Princeton 
libraries are closed at dark. In vacations Princeton's is open only from 
9 a. m. to 1 p. m. At Vassar the library is open eleven hours a day. 
Smith depends on the Forbes Public Library, and must observe the 
hours prescribed for that. Bryn Mawr has about the same number of hours 
with ourselves, from 8 a. m. till 10 P, m. As for our curriculum — it is as 
elective as Bryn Mawr's, and much more elective than that of Smith or 
Vassar, or any but the highest of the men's colleges, though some of these, 
and Radcliffe with them, have fewer required studies than we. Very gepu- 
ine is our academic liberality. From the standpoint of the code of pro- 
visions, our personal and social liberality is little behind. It is only that 
the principle at bottom of our "Rules and Regulations" is that enerva- 
ting we'11-help-you principle, instead of the invigorating help-yourself*. 


Impatience at the persistence of principles and laws with which we can- 
not bring ourselves to sympathize, disappears when we run over the changes 
which even in our day the College has adopted. Ninety-seven was the first 
class to enter under the new curriculum — itself the greatest single stride the 
College has made. Ninety-four, "our seniors," were the first class who had 
been allowed a half-shell for a crew boat. Former crews had rowed at Float 
in the College tubs, — mammoth crafts, of which a few specimens were still on 
the lake when we entered. Seniors alone could register for absence from 
College. For each absence from chapel or class every student had to hand in 
an excuse on "printed blanks, which might be obtained at the bookstore." 
Some of the Faculty considered it a rudeness for a student to give as excuse 
for absence from class "pressure of work." Many were the half-truths told 
to avoid this rudeness. We still regarded or disregarded silent time. We 
could not obtain permission to go to theater or opera. They told us the tale 
of two girls who had been expelled when discovered in one of those places. 


We had to get permission if we wished to attend church as a habit in the 
village instead of at College ; and if on any day we were inclined to go to 
some other place of worship than the one we had chosen in October, we had 
to get a special permission for the occasion. Excuses like those for chapel 
and recitation cuts were required for absence from church. The library was 
closed all Sunday. We could draw no books on week days, but only from 
4.15 Saturday until 9 Monday morning. There was no course of current 
topics lectures. There were no electric lights, and not enough gas jets. The 
pines by the greenhouse made a pitch-black passage, gruesome on all but 
moonlight nights, and we could not see enough, coming up in the evening 
from the village, to tell when we were going to walk on the planks and when 
off. There was no chemistry building. Lecture Rooms 1 and 2, Room R, 
and,the room opposite were the chemical lecture room and laboratories. The 
whole Main Building, willy-nilly, took Chemistry I. and " Organic." We 
looked forward to compulsory elocution in our sophomore year, and to a 
debate in addition to our forensics in the junior. There had been no golf, 
and, we think, no basket ball at Wellesley. There was no Athletic Associa- 
tion, and no athletic field. There was no boathouse. We were the first class 
to wear blue gymnasium suits; '96's were red, so we had to buy all ours at 
first hand. Ninety-six got the first one of our present style of crew boats 
that year. There were no Barn Swallows, and no barn (for us). There was 
no servants' dormitory. There was no prospect of a new chapel, or of 
students' parlors. There was no causeway passage between the Main Build- 
ing kitchen and dining room, and so no possibility of getting food hot from 
the kitchen to the tables. The entrance to the gymnasium was through 
domestic hall, past the kitchen, and up a winding stair (back stair). There 
was only one dining room, and the chairs at table all touched each other, so 
that to sit down and get up again had become a fine art. The bookstore was 
open for short intervals only during the day. It was behind the general 
office, which was where the cashier's office now is. The post office was next 
door on the same corridor, and at mail-delivery hours that hall was so jammed 
that one could with difficulty squeeze by. There was no telegraph office. 
There was no clock in the hall. The big Japanese gong was struck for meals 
and concerts, as well as for rising. There was a gruesome elevator etiquette : 
Faculty first, and then seniors. We had no Dean, and the duties of that office 


fell about on various already-burdened shoulders. And — we did domestic 
work : kept our rooms entirely, did all the waiting on table, and anywhere 
from ten to forty minutes work for the house or for some department daily. 
We entered three years ago this fall. Wellesley is like another place 
now. Could the most ardent advocate of progress demand changes more 
varied and rapid than have actually taken place ? Most of them have been 
the work of the College authorities. They have all been in the direction of 
greater comfort and freedom, more pleasure, and enlarged opportunities for 
the students. We should cease to feel bitterly and to wear a hostile front 
toward even the authority that irritates us, if we would often think over 
what this authority has done and desires to do for us. 


With pleasure we print three new answers to the Free Press inquiry 
about expense. And we ask for " more." 



[For a few fledgelings, not all in the freshman class. J 

A is the Apple 

Not munched on the street: 
B is the Banjo 

Not thrummed 'neath your feet. 

C, Corridors 

Where she does not play: 

D, Drug-store 

Where she's not an habitue. 
E is the Energy 

Not spent in squeals: 
F is the Friends 

Not discussed at her meals. 
G is the General Good 

Not all unsought: 
H is Herself 

Not ever in thought. 



I's the Ideas 

Not unceasingly voiced: 
J, Jollity 

Not everlastingly noised. 
K is the Kind 

That swells not the crowd: 
L is for Lady 

Ergo not for Loud. 
M, Manners 

Not challenging notice afar: 
N is the names 

Not let loose in the car. 
O's for Opinions 

Not all of this year: 
P, Sidewalk Platoons 

Where she does not appear. 
Q is the Quiet 

Not shunning her room: 
Pi is the Rights 

That she does not assume. 
S is the Slang 

Not approaching her lip: 
T, Talk 

Wherein no personalities dip. 
U is the Uses 

Not made of her head-tones: 
V, the Village 

She does not imagine her set owns. 
W is for Wellesley 

Not made by or through her 

Though with due reference to her. 
Y is for Youth 

Not too young for College: 
Z is for Zeal, 

But according to knowledge. 

El cetera. 


Expenses during freshmen year at Wellesley : — 

Room furnishings $17.52 

Required hooks 9.91 

Other books 21.47 





Traveling expenses 

Flowers . 



Miscellanies . 







"Can a girl go through Wellesley on five hundred dollars a year?" 
Yes, she can, and she can also enter into the good times. To be sure, I am 
not in college now, but '95 is not so very far away ; and we had class pins, 
class boats, and the cap and gown even then. 

For the present, at least, it seems as if a new boat would not be one 
of the expenses of a class. 

My account book was kept carefully, and in looking through it I find 
that, even including the cost of my clothes, my expenses seldom exceeded 
five hundred dollars. Social spreads can be given daintily and as one 
would wish, and still not be a drain on one's purse. This I know by prac- 
tical experience. 

A girl who has five hundred dollars a year to spend cannot be lavish, 
but she can enjoy college life and not deny herself the majority of "good 
times." If this is of any use to C. H. C. '84, I shall be glad that I fussed 
with accounts while at college. 

H., '95. 


The strong desire which animates every Wellesley girl to encourage all 
would-be college girls to make her Alma Mater their own, urges me to add 
what little information I can give to the answers which the " five hundred 
dollars a year" question must call forth. 


I fully appreciate that what I have to say is not very valuable, for 
reasons perfectly obvious to any one who reads this communication to the 
end ; but if the Magazine editors print all sorts and conditions of answers, 
this may find a place and be of some slight use. 

1 can estimate my expenses in bulk only, for one of the things which I 
left undone during my college course was keeping my accounts, but I do 
know positively that I went through Wellesley on five hundred dollars a 
year, and never felt "shut out from the good times." My expenses fell 
under all the heads suggested on page thirty-two of the October Magazine, 
except society dues and assessments. In addition to those specifically men- 
tioned, I indulged my love of flowers freely ; and my " traveling expenses " 
included not only trips to Boston and other near-by places, but also my trips 
home. at Christmas and in the spring, — and trips from Wellesley to Wash- 
ington, D. C, are not small items of expense. My expenses under many 
of these heads were not as great as those of many other students, but my 
recollection is that my trips to town and various other pleasures were 
curtailed always for lack of time, never for lack of money. 

So much for that side of the question. Now come some exceptions. 
First, and most serious, the charge for board and tuition was but three hun- 
dred and fifty dollars, instead of four hundred as at present. Still, when it 
is considered that my traveling expenses at both vacations are included in 
my estimate, and excluded in the question as asked in the Free Press, that 
additional fifty dollars does not look so large. I might also add that the 
money — not a very large sum — which I spent on Christmas presents was 
also included in what is beginning to appear to me as that magical five hun- 
dred dollars. The one other exception which I think necessary to note is, 
that at the close of my senior year I added somewhat to the legitimate five 
hundred. But that was largely due to a fit of rather unnecessary extrav- 
agance, which ought not to be allowed to vitiate the estimate as a whole. 

Let me add that I was a member of the class crew during the latter 
part of my junior and all of my senior year ; that I was a member of the 
Christian Association during the whole of my course, and of the College 
Settlements Association during at least one year ; and took a comparatively 
active part in all class affairs. 

Isabella Campbell, '94. 



The last issue of the American Journal of Psychology contains the 
thesis submitted to the faculty of Cornell University, by Alice J. Hamlin, of 
Wellesle}', '93, for the degree of doctor of philosophy. Miss Hamlin gained 
the degree after two years of very successful work, and held a Sage fellow- 
ship during her second year of study. The thesis is a scholarly discussion, 
theoretical and experimental, of "Attention and Distraction." Miss Hamlin 
is now professor of philosophy at Mount HolyoUe College. 

Kate Carnegie, by Ian Maclaren. New York, Dodd, Mead & Co. 
Linen, $1.50. 

Dr. Watson, in this first experiment of his at novel writing, has left to 
a certain extent the beaten road where he has been so successful, for a new 
track, where he is, it seems to us, much less so. So far as the book deals 
with simple folk, and unique bits of Scotch character and incident, it is de- 
lightful. The Rabbi, Janet, John, and Rebecca, the shrewd and sentient 
Scotch farmers and country clergymen, and even at times Carmichael, the 
hero himself, but most of all the Rabbi, are characters that do not fail to 
interest even a dialect-satiated world. The incident of the Rabbi's report of 
Carmichael's heresy to the Presbytery, the strongest bit in the book, is told 
with the humor and pathos of the "Bonnie Brier Bush " ; the struggle of 
the loving but conscience-driven old man with himself, of the friend with the 
Calvinist, is very touching. On the other hand, so far as the book follows 
conventional novel lines it is far less happy. The out-in-the-world young 
heroine moves somewhat automatically, and the love story runs but feebly 
through the far more interesting digressions. 

Love in Old Cloathes, and Other Stories, by H. C. Bunner. Charles 
Scribner's Sons, New York. $1.50. 

This is a volume of short stories, taking its title from the first, and per- 
haps the most interesting of the tales. In "Love in Old Cloathes" we have 
the ever fascinating colonial dialect combined with a love tale of such very 
modei*n summer resorts as Babylon and Islip, Long Island. The result is 
certainly amusing. We learn that at an afternoon tea the lady was anhun- 
gered, and " She did eate and drynke as followeth, to witt : — 


iij cupps of Bouillon (w ch is a Tea or Tisane of Beafe, made verie 

hott & thinne). 
iv Alberte biscuit, 
ij eclairs, 
i creame cake. 
together with divers small cates and comfeits wh of I know not ye names." 
Modern slang looks curious in these "old cloathes." References to 
"y e Ladde W mson ," who is finally "layd by y e Heeles," take us much by 

The story ends happily with a wedding, as is fitting for such a bright 
and interesting attempt. 

Among the six other stories of the volume, we notice " A Letter and a 
Paragraph," contrasting with the first, by its sombreness. We hope that its 
dreariness is overdrawn, and that few young journalists live and die as sadly 
as the writer of "A Letter." 

"Our Aromatic Uncle" is at once funny and sad. "The Red Silk 
Handkerchief," and "As One Having Authority," show the same mingled 
elements of pathos and humor, and are simply and easily told. 

This, in fact, is the best thing about these seven short stories. They 
are simply and unaffectedly done. They do not claim to be more than they 
are, and we like them for just what they are — wholesome, credible tales. 
lightly and gracefully told. 


The Land o' the Leal" by David Lyall. Dodd, Mead & Co. Linen, 

The Vicar of Wakefield. Edited by James Gilbert Riggs, A.M. Stu- 
dents' Series of English Classics. Leach, Shewell & Sanborn. Linen, 
35 cts. 

We would call attention to the Wellesley Calendar for 1897, which is 
on sale at the bookstore. 

The kindness of the librarians enables us to print this list of the 
books added to the College Library in October and November. Each issue 
hereafter will contain a list of the books added since the preceding issue. 




Bates, A., Talks on Writing English. 

Brewster, W. P., Studies in Structure and Style. 

Chamberlain, A. F., Child and Childhood in Folk Thought. 

Garnett, R., W. Blake. 

Gosse, E., Critical Kit-kats. 

Hawthorne, J., and Lemmon, S., American Literature. 

Hutton, R. II., Criticisms on Contemporary Thought. 

Strachan, J., and Wilkins, A. S., Analecta. 

Watson, J., Mind of the Master. 


Cassel, P., Ahasuerus. 

Cesaresco, E. M., Contessadi., Liberation of Italy. 

Curtis, G. T., Constitutional History of the United States. V. 2. 

Emerton, E., Introduction to the Middle Ages. 

Feilden, H. St. O, Short Constitutional History of England. 3d ed. 

Follett, M. P. , Speaker of the House of Representatives. 

Gardiner, S. R., History of England from James I. to the Civil War. 10 v. 

Giddings, F. H., Principles of Sociology. 

Haigh, A. E., Attic Theatre. 

Holm, A., History of Greece. V. 1, 2. 

Lothrop, T. K., W. H. Seward. 

Mahaffy, J. P., Empire of the Ptolemies. 

McCurdy, J. F., History, Prophecy and the Monuments. V. 2. (Gertrude.) 

Medley, D. J., Students' Manual of Constitutional History. 

Mill, J. S., Utilitarianism. 

Mombert, J. T., Short History of the Crusades. 

New York State Board of Charities, Annual Reports 1888-94. 

Renan, E., History of the People of Israel. 5 v. 

Spahr, C. B., Present Distribution of Wealth in United States. 

Stimson, F. Y., Handbook to the Labor Law of the United States. 

Tarbell, T. M., Madame Roland. 

Walker, F. A., International Bimetallism. 

Willoughby, W. W., Nature of the State. 


Goethe, Werke, hrsg. von Sachsen. 

Landolt & Bornstein, Phys. Chem. Tabellen. 2 aufl. 


Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics; tr. by F. H. Peters. 6th ed. 
Berkeley (G.), Selections, notes by Fraser. 4th ed. 


Halleck, K. P. , Psychology and Psychic Culture. 

Hegel, Philosophy of Right, tr. by S. W. Dyde. 

Hopkins, E. W., Religions of India. 

Hume, D., Treatise on Human Nature; ed. by Selby Bigge. 

James, W., Principles of Psychology. 2 v. 

Johnson, F., Quotations of the New Testament. 

Leibnitz, New Essays Concerning Human Understanding. 

Moulton, R. G., ed., Genesis, Exodus, Deuteronomy, Judges, Kings, Biblical Idyls. 

Seth, James, Ethical Principles. 

Sigwart, C, Logic. 2d ed. rev. 2 v. 

Stewart, J. A., Notes on Nicomachean Ethics of Aristotle. 2 v. 

Thomson, J. E. H., Books which Influenced Our Lord. (Gertrude.) 

Warren, H. C, tr., Buddhism in Translations. 


Comey, A. M., Dictionary of Chemical Solubilities. 

Fuller, A. S., Nut Culturist. 

Gaye, S., Great World's Farm. 

Hall, H. S., and Knight, S. R., Elementary Algebra. 2d ed. 

Halleck, R. P., Education of the Central Nervous System. 

Kemp, J. F., Handbook of Rocks. 

Lubbock, J., Scenery of Switzerland. 

Merriman, M., and Woodward, R. S., eds. Higher Mathematics. 

Russell, T. C, Lakes of North America. 

Tarr, R. S., Elementary Physical Geography. 

Taylor, J. M., College Algebra. 2d ed. 


Destrie, O. G., Renaissance of Sculpture in Belgium. 

Garnett, R., Richmond on the Thames. 

(Peyrol, R.), Rosa Bonheur. 

Phillips, C, Picture Gallery of Charles I. 

Waern, C, La Farge. 

Weale, W. H. J., Gerard David. 


The Amherst Literary Monthly for November contains a short article 
on "Jasmin, Barber Poet," and a story, "A Debut by Proxy," which is 
rather cleverly told and unpretentious in theme. 

The Vassar Miscellany is an especially attractive number. A descrip- 
tion of the Vassar Student's Association is of timely interest to Wellesley. 


" Benegria," a story of a little Moravian sister, is the best tale of the num- 
ber ; while a prize poem, " The Ballad of the Poplar Tree," by Nancy Vin- 
cent McClelland, has merit quite unusual for college verse. The length of 
the ballad unfortunately forbids us to quote it, but we give the following 
verses from the same pages : — 


Far off the purple hills in silence sleep, 
Wrapped in a mist that from the river's breast 
Rises, tracing its unseen course, to veil their crest; 
While nearer western slopes the sunbeams steep 
In shining gold that burnished tree-tops keep. 
The russet fields from summer's toil at rest, 
Their wage in yellow corn and pumpkins reap, 
And still with scattered lingering flowers are drest. 
The odorous murmuring pines to-day are still; 
Soft clouds hang motionless in a pale sky; 
The sweetness and the silence stay my will 
Like poppies' scent, while in soft melody 
The crickets chirp. Deep peace and rest now fill 
The earth and soothe my heart to harmony. 

— Vaasar Miscellany. 

" The Prisoners of the Tower," in The Morningside, for November 27, 
is a readable story, although the incidents on which it rests are not easily to 
be believed. The manner of the tale is fashioned after the school of Mr. 
Weyman and Mr. Anthony Hope. 

The Mount Holyoke for October comes to us later than usual this year, 
because of the disaster which befell the College in the fall. The magazine 
office, which was in the main hall, was, of course, burned. The greatest in- 
terest of the issue is in the story of the fire. A number of articles on this 
subject, together with a brief sketch or two, make up the number. 

The Yale Courant has published some clever verse lately. "The Bal- 
lad of Marian May," and the " Legend of Dappledown Shire in the County 
of Derry," are both too long to quote. " An Etching," by Forsyth Wickes 
in the Courant for the third week of November, we give below. " La Fem- 
me Barbe " in the last October issue should also be noticed as a well-written 



Heather and bracken o'er hill and dale, 

Bright sun hid by a cloudy veil, 

West wind over the mountain's crest, 

Fing'ring the foam of the swift burns breast, 

A silken thread on the rapids cast — 

A swirl in the current racing past, 

Silvery gleams in the depths below, 

Foam ripples circling, fading slow. 

Now in the pool by Granite rock, 

A turn, a twist, a sudden shock, 

Over the tossing burn a flash, 

Down by the rapids a sounding splash, 

Parted the strands of silken thread, 

Deep in the burn the game has fled ; 

Heather and bracken o'er hill and dale. 

Sky to the east a dreary pale. 

— Yale Courant. 

By far the best verse of the month is "Theocritus in Egypt," by W. 
D. Makepeace, in the current number of the Yale Literary Monthly. Two 
short stories "The Clients that Never Came," and " Littera Lu Bella," are 
also worthy of remark. We cannot forbear to quote the " Theocritus." 

(The Court poet remembers his youth.) 

The North wind sleeping in the palms, 
The birds, the languid-lying sea, 
Are lisping, crying, whispering, 
' Come homeward ! Come to Sicily ! " 

It brings not back youth's fabled fire, 
This age-chilled wine of Ptolemy; 
The draughts of passion, life, desire 
I drained in golden Sicily. 

Some sorrows are too deep for tears, 

Some are the fountains whence tears sprim 

My soul's decay too sad to sing 

Save in the dirge of passing years ; 

For empty all my life has passed, 

Like idle clouds that sail the sea — 

A long processional of days — 


In babbling hireling songs of praise, 
An exile from fair Sicily. 

The noon-tide heat casts o'er the city's face 
Its daily pall of dull serenity. 
Fainter the whisper grows; I scarce can trace 
Its pleading, " Come to Sicily." 

— Yale Literary Monthly. 


Sunday, November 29. — President Hyde. 

Monday, November 30. — Lecture and recital of Irish songs. Mr 
Frederick Bancroft. 

Saturday, December 5. — Reading. Mrs. Deland. 

Sunday, December 6. — President Hyde. 

Monday, December 7. — Concert. 

Saturday, December 12. — Lecture. Mrs. Helen Campbell. 

Sunday, December 13. — Dr. A. H. Bradford. 

Monday, December 14. — Art Lecture. 

Wednesday, December 16. — Christmas vacation begins. 


The Classical Society held its regular programme meeting, Saturday 
evening, October 24. The subject was JEschylus. The following was the 
programme : — 

a. Symposium. 

I. Latest News from Classic Lands. 
II. Summaries of the Principal Dramas of iEschylus. 

b. I. Discussion. 

a. The Religious Attitude of JEschylus Carolyn J. Peck. 

6. The Literary Art of iEschylus . Grace B. Townsend. 

II. Passage from the Agamemnon (lines 821- 

947) Florence E. Hastings. 

Harriet W. Carter. 



A regular meeting of the Phi Sigma was held on Saturday, November 
14, with the following programme : — 

Subject : The Symbolic Aspect of Greek Mythology 
Nature Symbolism ...... 

Statuary : Group of Goddesses. 
Reading : Homer's Hymn to Mercury 
Statuary : Group of Muses. 
Spirit Symbolism ..... 

Statuary : Orpheus and Eurydice. 
Reading : Sill's Venus de Milo 

Mary Finlay 
Mary Hamblet. 
Katharine Pinkham. 

Amelia Ely. 

A regular meeting of the Agora was held November 21, with the fol- 
lowing programme : — 
Impromptu Speeches. 

The Settlement of the Venezuelan Ques- 
tion ....... 

The Latest Propositions in regard to 
Armenia ...... 

The Conduct of the Free Silver Party 
since the Election .... 

Helen Davis, '99. 
Mary North, '97. 
Mary Cross, '98. 


An Analysis of the Vote of the Elections, 
The Tactics of the Last Campaign . 
The Electoral College .... 

Gertrude Devol, '97. 

Miriam Hathaway, '97. 

Olive Young, '99. 

The Agora celebrated its sixth birthday on "Wednesday evening, 
November 11. Miss Cobb, '96, was present. 

A regular meeting of Society Zeta Alpha was held on Saturday night, 
November 28. 

Misses Alice Childs, '98, Rachel Hoge, '98, Edith Tewksbury, '99, and 
Helen Kenyon, '99, were initiated into the society. 

The following "was the programme : — 

General Subject, — Glimpses of Spanish Life contemporary with Don 


I. Church Life ..... Louise S. Wetmore. 

II. Court Life Martha M. Smith. 

III. Peasant Life Margaret L. Wheeler. 

IV. Spanish Amusements . . . Helen Burton. 
V. Current Topic — The Cuhan Ques- 
tion ...... Alexina G. Booth. 

The regular meeting of the Shakespeare Society was held November 28. 
Miss Hart and Miss Elizabeth Cheney, Miss Mary Gilson and Miss Marga- 
ret Merrill, were received into the Society. The programme was as follows : — 

I. Shakespeare News Joanna Oliver. 

II. The Contrast between the Personal and 

Political Elements of Henry IV. . Edna Patterson. 

III. Dramatic Representation, Henry IV., Part 

I., Act II., Scene 4. 
IV: The Career of Falstaff .... Florence Bennett. 
V. Dramatic Representation, Henry IV., Part 
I., Act V., Scene 5. 
Miss Adams, Miss Emerson, and Miss Dodge were present at the 

The Society of Tau Zeta Epsilon held a meeting on Saturday evening, 
November 28. The following programme was presented : — 

Report on Current Art Edith R. Meade. 

Modern American Architecture. 

1. Domestic Margaret Weed. 

2. Public Ethel Norton. 

3. Architects of Our Time . . Grace M. Dennison. 
Miss Margarethe Miiller was initiated into the Society. 


On Monday evening, November 16, a concert was given by Miss Geral- 
dine Morgan, violinist; Mr. Paul Morgan, 'cellist; and Mr. Ericsson Bush- 
nell, basso. The College remembered the interesting concert given by Mr. 


and Miss Morgan last winter, and was fully represented at this conceit. 
Everyone present enjoyed it greatly. 

On Wednesday evening, November 18, the Dean was at home in the 
Faculty parlor to some of the College Hall sophomores. Several of the 
teachers were also present. These informal receptions of Miss Stratton's 
have been more than pleasant, and are much appreciated by those to Avhom 
they have been given. 

On Saturday afternoon, November 21, Mrs. Alice Freeman Palmer 
spoke in the chapel on " Some Recent Impressions on Education in France 
and England." President Irvine introduced ex-President Palmer in a few 
words, to which the latter replied in a way most interesting to the audience. 
Mrs. Palmer then spoke of the comparative newness of the French educa- 
tional system, and especially of the rigidity of the university system. The 
subject was almost unknown to many of the audience, and the lecture was 
thus most valuable. 

Professor Palmer of Cambridge, Mrs. Alice Freeman Palmer, and Miss 
Sprague of Radcliffe, spent Sunday, November 22, at Norumbega. 

On Saturday night, November 21, a reception was held in the Horsford 
parlor for Professor and Mrs. Palmer. Many of the Faculty were present, 
and among the guests was Rev. Mrs. Annis F. Eastman, of Elmira. 

On the same night the senior class held its first class social of the year 
in the gymnasium. It was an Old Folks' Party, as the costumes showed. 
The Class history, "A History of Folly," as it was called, was presented. 
The freshmen say that later in the evening several of the Faculty met them- 
selves in the corridors, and that two Presidents and two Deans shook hands. 

On Sunday, November 22, Rev. Mrs. Annis F. Eastman, of Elmira, 
preached in the chapel. Mrs. Eastman is an Oberlin woman, and a friend 
of the Oberlin alumna? on the Wellesley Faculty. She stayed until Monday, 
and spoke again at the vesper service. The College would be glad to hear 
her often. 

There was neither concert nor lecture on Monday evening, November 23, ■ 
and many small events took the place of the general one. 


Miss Floyd Smith and Miss Myrtle Brotherton, of '97, entertained a 
few of the seniors in Society Hall. 

An Old Maids' Party was given by Misses Baker, Baxter, ('apron, and 
Moore, '98, to some of their own class. 

The Thanksgiving recess began at noon, Wednesday, November 25. 
A large part of the College left town. 

On Thanksgiving Day the freshmen living in the village were enter- 
tained at dinner at Stone Hall. 

College reopened at noon, Friday, November 27. 

On Friday afternoon, November 27, Dr. Alice Walton, of the Art de- 
partment, lectured on "The Excavations and Discoveries about Ilium," be- 
fore the Homer class and others interested in the subject. 

On Friday night, November 27, Miss Baldwin, '98, gave a small med- 
ieval party for Miss Grace Parker, of Brooklyn. 

On Saturday afternoon, November 28, Miss Godfrey gave a library 
talk in the chapel. 

In the evening, the Barn Swallows gave their long-delayed Hallowe'en 
entertainment in the gymnasium. It was a dramatization, by the committee 
in charge, of the Canterville Ghost, followed by a Ghost Drill on the " Bat- 
tle of Blenheim." The cast of the play was as follows : — 

Mr. Otis, an American who has bought 

the Canterville estate in England . Austana Angell, Sp. 

Mrs. Otis . . . . . Alma Seipp, '99. 

Jack Otis, Yale, '96 . . . . Geraldine Gordon, 1900. 

Virginia Otis, a fascinating girl . . Grace Ball, '97. 

$ Diavolo . Gertrude Underbill, '98. 

Otis twins, twelve years old) . ,. A1 . T ^ innn 

J c Angelica, Alice Knox, 1900. 

Mrs. Umley, former housekeeper to the 

Cantervilles ..... Katharine Pinkham, '97. 

Duke of Cheshire, in love with Virginia Eleanor Brooks, '98. 

The Canterville Ghost .... Mary Simonds, '97. 



Maud A. Dodge, '88, and Elizabeth F. Abbe, '88, Professor in Mt. 
Holyoke College, spent the Thanksgiving vacation at Wellesley. 

Inez de Lashmutt, '92, is teaching English in the University of Oregon, 
Eugene, Oregon. 

During the greater part of August and September, Caroline Newman, 
'93, was entertained by Winifred Watson, formerly of '96, in Portland and 
Southern Oregon. They accompanied the Mozamas, a Pacific Coast mountain 
climbing club, on a two weeks' outing to Mt. Pitt and Crater Lake, in the 
Cascade Range. Miss Newman is teaching this year in the Nelson Seminary, 
in Shreveport, Louisiana. In addition to this work she has private pupils. 

Edith Whitlock, '96, has been compelled by ill health to leave her 
position in San Antonio, Texas. She is now with her brother at College 
Station, Texas. 

Louise Tayler, '96, spent Thanksgiving at the College. 

Maude E. Capron, '96, is teaching Chemistry and Physics in the 
Ansonia (Conn.) High School. 

Mabel Haseltine and Laura Northup, '96, are at home in Portland, 

Winifred Watson, formerly of '96, is teaching in the public schools of 
Portland, Oregon. 

The address of Mrs. R. M. Manly, formerly instructor in English at 
Wellesley, is 435 Grant Avenue, San Diego, California. 

The November meeting of the New York Wellesley Club was held on 
Saturday, November Si, at the home of Mrs. Hitchings, 264 West 93d 
Street, New York. Miss Katherine P. Jones, '85, by lecture and photo- 
graphs, gave the club a most charming hour with the "Great Masters of 
the Sixteenth Century." 



Shedd-Stone. — In Rochester, N. Y., June 30, 1896, Miss Maude A. 
Stone, formerly of '97, to Mr. Kendrick P. Shedd. 


At Poughkeepsie, N. Y., on Wednesday, November 25, Adaline B. 
Glass, mother of Cleona Glass, '94. 



Nos. 202 to 212 Boylston Street, and Park Square, 

Our Annual Clearance Sale . . . Commences Monday, December 28th 

Continuing through January. 

We shall offer our entire stock of Ladies' Dresses, 
Garments, Millinery, Underwear, Gloves, Hosiery, 
Dress Goods, etc., etc., AT PRICES TO CLOSE. 

An opportunity is afforded by this Sale to secure the Finest Goods at less than much more 

ordinary goods are usually sold for. 

"OUR attention is called to our assortment of 

Jewelry and Silverware 


ARTICLES for the Toilet Table and 
Writing Desk, in artistic patterns, 
a specialty. 

The newest designs of Fancy Jewelry, 
Hair Ornaments, Fans, and Opera 
Glasses in stock. 

We respectfully invite you to visit our store, whether you purchase or not. 

A. StOWell & Co., 24 Winter Street, Boston. 

N. C. Whitaker & Co. 


pine Tortoise Shell 

Stock Comprises many Novelties for Holiday Gifts. 
Special Discounts to Wellesley Students. 

Salesroom, No. 7 Temple Place, 

Factory, Boston, HaSS. 

363 Washington Street. 

Kent Place School 
for Girls, 

Summit, New Jersey. 

Hamilton W. Mabie, 

Application may be made to the 

Mrs. Sarah Woodman Paul. 


The Young Ladies' Attention is called to something 
very attractive in a 

French Flannel Shirt Waist, 

which has been made to order in the most Fashionable 
colors and very "Chic" style for 


No. 44 Temple Place, Boston. 

The Young Ladies should make a special examination of these Waists, as they are' 

proving wonderfully satisfactory. 


:»:»."» Washington Street, Boston. 

College Athletic and Gymnasium Outfitters, 


Crew Sweaters and Jerseys, which are also suitable for all athletic purposes, made to order in any 

style in the best manner. 
A Discount of 10 per cent is given Wellesley students on individual orders. Special net rates for crew or team orders. 

tub Senior Class PHotogiaoner 

for Wellesley '94 and '95 

Charles W. Hearn, 

392 Boylston Street, 

Mr. Hearn thanks Wellesley students for 
their past valued patronage, and would be 
pleased to submit prices and samples, with 
a view to his possible selection as Class Pho- 
tographer for Wellesley '97. 


Charles W. Hearn. 


In all Departments of Literature 

Can be found at our store. The largest as- 
sortment in Boston of the popular and stand- 
ard authors. Also a large variety at special 
reductions. Large variety of Bibles, Prayer 
Books, Booklets, etc. 

We are noted for low prices. 

De Wolfe, Fiske & Co., 

Nos. 361 and 365 Washington Street, Boston. 


MS ^<?^A 

Photographer to the Class of '97 

JVos. 74. and 88 Boylston Street, 



Remodeled to the 

Prevailing Styles of 

Collarettes and 

Ripple Capes 

Alterations promptly completed. Satisfac* 
tory results guaranteed. 

Lehrburger & Asher 


46 and 48 Chauncy Street 



Rooms l, 2 and 3 

218 Boylston Street 



Tailor-made Costumes and 

No. 344 Boylston Street 



Royal Worcester Corsets, $1.00, $1.25, 
$1.50, and upwards. 

French Corsets, $1.50, $2.00, $2.25, and 

Glove Fitting Corsets, 75 cts., $1.00, $1.25, 
$1.50, and upwards. 

R. & G. Corsets, 75 cts., $1.00, $1.25, and 

Ferris Good Sense Waists, 75 cts., $1.00, 
$1.25, and upwards. 

Jackson Waists, $1.25, $1.50. 

Equipoise Waists, $1.75, $2.00, $2.25, and 

Examine our Pongee Silk Corset. Whale- 
bone, $3.50. 


Next to Chandler & Company. No. 21 Winter Street, Boston. 


Private Corset Parlors 

Corsets and Bustles Made to Order 

Bigelow & Kennard Building, 
Nos. <> and 10 


E IV. Hodgson & Company, 

Eyes scientifically tested, $ 7 .00. 

Glasses (rimless if desired), $1.50 ; Gold, $3.30, 
and upward. Astigmatic Lenses, $1.00 additional. 
Prescriptions filled at these prices. Opthalmic opti- 
cians only in attendance. 

Best Watch Work and Watches in the city. Mr. 
Hodgson recently head watchmaker for Messrs. 
Bigelow, Kennard & Co. (6 years with them), 4 
years with Messrs. Shreve, Crump & Low Co. 

Special prices to Students on Watchwork. 

7 Temple Place, Room 4.4., Boston. 

Joseph Perkins, 

Reasonable Rates . . . Special Terms by 
the Quarter; Lessons given Day or Evening. 

j^Agent for J. F. Luscomb's Latest Banjos,-* 
Noted for their . . . 
Brilliancy of Tone and Finish. 

Take, Elevator. 

Y12. Tremont Street, Room 36, 


Dr. Charles H. Veo 

(D.M.D., Harvard University) 

Dr. Louis n. Veo 

(D.M.D., Harvard University) 


Crown and Bridge =Work 

Lady Assistant always in Attendance 

Hotel Pelham, 74 Boylston Street 



Passe Partout and Frame pater. 

Maps, Panels, and Velvet Work. 
Old Engravings Restored. 

Wood and Gold Frames of the Latest 

338 Washington St., Boston. 

TF you will try Mrs. Dr. J. E. Bishop's 


you will be relieved of headaches caused 
by loss of sleep, overwork, or nervous- 

Mrs. Dr. J. E. Bishop, 

Hotel Peiham, 74 Boylston Street, Boston. 


Penhallow Tales, by Edith Robinson, with cover 
design by C. B. Murphy. Cloth, octavo, $1.25. 

The title of Miss Robinson's book is taken from the opening 
story, which it will be remembered created no little attention 
sometime ago when it appeared in The Century. 

More Songs from Vagabondia, by Bliss Carman 
and Richard Hovey, with new designs by T. B. 
Meteyard. Paper, boards, $1.00. 

Companion volume to " Songs from Vagabondia," now in 
its third edition. 

No. 69 Cornhill, Boston. 

How to Make 

Embroidered and Crochet 


With Color Card of Mountings, 
Price List, etc., 

• • PR EE • • 

We make to order or make up 
and mount them at short notice. 


521 Washington Street (opp. R. H.White's), Boston, Mass. 



Makers of 


to the 


i?i?i?4: Illustrated Catalogue and Particulars on Application,^^^^ 




mmX f *3W»KHT W 

Delicious & Capd^m 


146 Tremont Street, 

BOSTON, Mass. 




Deliver all packages at the 
College and in Wellesley free 
of charge J-&J-&&J-&& 

our snoes 

Stand the Light ! 
The more light the more good 
points you see. 

Perfect satisfaction in every purchase, 
and that backed up to the letter. Men- 
tion this advertisement. 

UnderWOOd, Leader in Footwear 

3 Clark's Block, Natick. 

International Fur Company, 

Nos. 39 and 4J Summer Street, Boston, 
Are now showing their Complete Line of & •£ •£ 




Neck Novelties . ♦ 

$2.00 to 


Plain Cloth . . 

. $8.50 to 


Collarettes ... 

12.50 to 


Fur Trimmed . 

18.50 to 


Electric Seal Capes 

15.00 to 



Astrachan Capes . 
Alaska Sable Capes . 
Persian Lamb Capes . 

22.50 to 
65.00 to 
75.00 to 


Plain Cloth . . 
Fur Lined . . . 

$8.00 to 
. 30.00 to 


Seal Capes 

175.00 to 



Persian Lamb Jackets . 

120.00 to 


Cloth .... 

. $12.50 to 


Seal Jackets . 

250.00 to 


Silk ... . 


Furs Made Over. S Particular attention is given to 
the remodeling and repairing of Fur Garments. Our prices 
are the lowest in Boston. 

Special Notice. £ A discount of 10 per cent will be given on all purchases made by the 
Faculty and Students of Wellesley College. 



Headquarters for 



Ladies' Handkerchiefs. 


0^ Temple Place, Boston. 


Shreve, Crump I Low Go. 



Fine Stationery. Card Engraving. 

Programs and Invitations, both printed and 
engraved. Class Day Programs a specialty. 

Class Pins designed and manufactured to 

Parasols and Umbrellas made to order, re- 
covered and repaired. 

. .ONLY. . 

First Glass Tltroogn Car 


Through Trains Leave Boston as follows : — 

8.30 a. m. (except Sunday) Day Express. 
10.30 a. m. (daily) Chicago Special. 
2.00 p. m. (daily) North Shore Limited. 
3.00 p. m. (except Sunday) St. Louis and 

Chicago Express. 
7. 1 5 p. m. (daily) Pacific Express. 


. . FOR . . 

Hartford, New Havens New York. 



9.00 a. m. (except Sunday) 3.30 p. m. 

1 1.00 a. m. (except Sunday) 5.28 p. m. 

12.00 m. (except Sunday) 5.32 p. m. 

4.00 p. m. (daily) 10.00 p. m. 

(New Equipment built by the Pullman. Co.) 

11.00 p.m. (daily) 6.41a.m. 

For tickets, information, time-tables, etc., apply 
to nearest ticket agent. 


Genera/ Passenger Agent. 



The attention of students is called to our 
new Carbonettes. These are photographic 
reproductions in brown tone, closely imita- 
ting imported Carbons, but at our usual 
prices. We have added also a new line of 
picture frames especially adapted for students' 
rooms, giving artistic effects at very reasona- 
ble prices. 

Soule Photograph Co., 

338 Washington street, Boston. 

Wright & Ditson. 

new England's leading athletic outfitters. 

Every Requisite for ... 

Athletic Sports and Pastimes 

Golf, Tennis, basket ball, 
skating, etc. 

Gymnasium, Fencing and Outing Uniforms 
of every description. 

Prompt and careful attention given to mail orders. 

Wright & Ditson, 

Mo. 344 Washington Street, Boston, Mass. 

The Dana Hall School, 


Pupils are prepared for regular or for special courses at 
Wellesley College. 

Price for Board and Tuition, $500 for the school year; 
Tuition for day pupils, $125. 

For further information address the Principals : 

Julia A. Eastman, 
Sarah P. Eastman. 

HJHelleslep pharmacy, 


Pure Drugs and Medicines. 

Physicians' Prescriptions a Specialty. 


Fine Stationery and Engraving House 

1121 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia. 



Heraldry and Genealogy a Specialty. 

Coats of Arms Painted for Framing. 


oman's Medical College of the 

New York Infirmary for Women and Children. 

AESSION '96-97 opens October 1, 1S96. Four years, Graded Course. 
^ Instruction by Lectures, Clinics, Recitations and practical work, under 
supervision in Laboratories, and Dispensary of College, and in New York 
Infirmary. Clinics and operations in most of the City Hospitals and Dis- 
pensaries open to Women Students. For Catalogues, etc., address 

321 East Fifteenth Street, 
New York. 


As a Rule 

When a girl leaves college she soon becomes en- 
gaged, and then the first thing she does is to buy 
table linens. Therefore, always ask for linens 
manufactured by 

Erskine Beveridge & Company, Limited, 
which are the best, and can be found at all the 
large Retail Dry Goods Stores. 

Stationer and Picture Dealer. 

Special attention given to Framing 
Pictures at reasonable prices, jtjtj* 

It is of easy access by the Electric Cars. 

No. 2 riain Street, Natick, Hass. 


Trimmed and Untrlmmed Hats. 
Bicycle and Walking Hats a Specialty. 

Our Dress-lining Department is the 
largest in the city. <£<£<£ jtjt^t 
Special prices toWellesley Students. 

H. W. 




Hlellesley Preparatory, 


For circular address the Principals, 


Established 1843. Incorporated 1805- 


Largest Stock and Lowest 
Prices on 


Mathematical Instruments, 

Drawing Materials and Picture Frames 



Importers and Wholesale Dealers, 

1 Special Rates to Colleges." 

New Illustrated Catalogue Fkee. 



It is generally conceded that a stringed instrument 

is almost an absolute necessity. To secure the 

greatest enjoyment from the purchase get the best 
your money will afford. Expert judgment 
pronounces the "Bay State" instruments 
the finest in the world. An excellent instru- 
ment is the 


We have in stock cheaper banjos than this, 
bul for a substantial, serviceable instrument 
at a low price, no other instrument manufac- 
tured can compare with it. Send for illus- 
trated catalogue. 

453-463 Washington Street, Boston. 



FULL LINE of Hand Cameras and 
MateriaIv?*J*J*Negatives Developed. 
Prints Made and Mounted^*^«^«^«^ 


Wellesley Graduates are always in demand. 
Register now. 


William F. Jarvis, Manager. 

Send for registration blanks and circulars. 



STATION ERY«^«^«*^«5t 

A Large Variety in the Latest Styles. 

Fancy Goods, Novelties, Picture Frames, 
Bicycles, etc., etc. 


16 Slain Street, Nalick, Mass. 

PRI NTI NG~* j* .*&&& j-j- & 

First-Class Work. Prompt Service. 

Class and Society Printing: a Specialty. 

We Guarantee Satisfaction. 

"The Bulletin Press," • 

18 Main Street, Matick, Mass. 

JVlQ VJlOVeS ? Hosiery, Underwear and Ribbons, Embroidery 
Silks, Stamped Linens, Denims, Art Muslins, and Cretonnes.^*^^ 

J. B. Leamy, Natick, Mass. 

IO per cent discount to all 

Professors and Students of 
Wellesley College. 

Artists'. . . 

Drafting Instruments. Art Studies and Books. 

Oil and Water Colors, Crayons, Materials 
For Tapestry, Painting, etc. 

waflswonn, Howiann i Co., ' : 82 ami 84 Washington Si., Boston. 

Branch Store in the Grundmann Studios, Clarendon Street, near St. James Avenue. Principal Factories, Maiden. 

Mass., and South Paris, Maine. 

O. A. Jenkins & Co. 


Ladies' Sailor and English Walking Hats 
of our own Importation. ^ Exclusive Styles. 

Sole Agents for Connelly's New York Turbans. 


^^ }T\ /^)f"^Q All the latest styles in Narrow, Medium, 

* * * and Wide Toes. Special attention given 
to making shapes recommended by leading surgeons. Button 
and Lace Boots and Oxford Ties, in Black, Russet, and Patent 
Leather. The largest assortment of Bicycle and Tennis Goods 
to be found in Boston. Party Boots, Shoes and Slippers in 
great variety. 

ST* 1 :— , , T. E. MOSELEY & CO., 

Faculty and Students of 7 

Weiiesiey College. 469 Washington Street, Boston. 

Joel Goldthwait & Company, 

Oriental Carpets and Rugs. Axminsters, Wilton and 

Brussels Carpets. 

We are now ready to show the finest line we ever opened in 

Foreign and Domestic Carpets. 

All new in style, and adapted to the present furnishings. 
Our own special patterns. Our open stock is full at prices lower than ever. 

Joel Goldthwait & Company, 

Near cornhiii. 163 to 169 Washington Street, Boston, Mass. 

In every department of our store we allow Wellesley Professors and 
Students a discount, generally 10 per cent. 

We deliver all goods free of express charges at Wellesley College and Dana Hall. 

During the year you will notice many attractive goods which your friends at home 
would be glad to see. We shall be glad to send samples at your request. 

Dress Goods, Hosiery, Neckwear, Millinery, 

Underwear and Art Embroideries 



are perhaps some of the departments most interesting to students, but the discount applies 
to every department. 



Tremont Street and Temple Place, - - BOSTON, MASS. 

Ladies' and Children's 

Specialty Garment House. 

Young Ladies' Coats, Suits, 
Wraps, Fur Capes, Rain-proof 
Garments, Silk Petticoats, 
and Tea Gowns. 

The Latest Paris and Berlin Novelties 

Always in Stock at 
Moderate Prices. . . 

531 and 533 Washington Street, Boston 

Next door to Boston Theatre. 

Frank Wood, Printer, Boston.